


The Marmora Files

by galaxiebot



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Detective, Detective Shiro (Voltron), M/M, Thief Keith (Voltron), phantom thief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 10:17:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 33,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15993158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxiebot/pseuds/galaxiebot
Summary: Shiro is a young and upcoming detective with a promising career until his Captain gives him the illustrious Marmora Case. The kiss of death for every detective that's been put on it before him. Little does he know, he's going to be the very first to crack the case, but only because the phantom thief Marmora, a former circus acrobat named Keith and his clever hacker Pidge have discovered a larger problem. Once they're faced with a common enemy, Keith and Shiro find themselves tip toeing around their obvious romantic chemistry. While Keith reconciles with his feelings and wants to pursue Shiro, Shiro finds himself inexplicably drawn to Keith in a way he’s never experienced, but he desperately tries to focus on solving the new case Marmora has brought him, instead of the suave thief he's working with. Too bad after all of this, Keith is going to find himself in prison at Shiro's hand.





	1. Chapter 1

**Part I**  
  
Shiro, despite his best efforts to assure himself that Captain Sendak was _not_ setting him up for failure, couldn’t help but feel like this was a career death sentence being set on his desk. The fresh detective stared at the fat case file, all of which culminated into one thing: an unsolvable case. One that spanned about a decade’s worth of cons, breaking and entering, heists, and forgeries that no one was even sure the same person had committed. Early cases didn’t have a calling card, but some detective before him had connected the dots, figuring these were first shots at what became the recognizable, and borderline folk hero Marmora. 

“Sir, is there new evidence?” Shiro didn’t want this case, every detective before him had gone crazy or dropped out of the force entirely after taking it on. He had just gotten to be a detective a year ago, he did not want this. Not at all. 

“There are still things being stolen.” Captain Sendak, a gruff career cop who had never worked the case, had handed this over to so many detectives, that Shiro started to think he might only give it to the ones he hated the most. “Marmora leaves his calling card everytime. That’s all the evidence you need. Isn’t it?” 

Shiro jolted, his eyes falling down to the fat file and then back up to Captain Sendak’s face. “Yes sir,” he said, “I will do my best. I hope that you will do your best to help me as well.” 

“Of course Shirogane.” Captain Sendak sounded like he was just trying to brush Shiro off, so Shiro just got up and left. He didn’t need this in his life right now, between partners and a growing reputation for being too flashy on the job or too rash, he didn’t need to take something so high profile on, and he didn’t need to stress himself out. He preferred his petty counterfeiting cases much more. 

This wasn’t terribly different of course. Marmora was known for stealing things by swapping them for incredibly convincing fakes. Sometimes to the point that they’d get auctioned off and suddenly, three weeks later, some family would receive millions of dollars that used to belong to some unfortunate rich person who’d bought the fake. Shiro really couldn’t say he hated this guy’s M.O., he clearly put a lot of effort into taking things, and often times, they’d turn up in the hands of someone who had the correct claim to it. 

Shiro pulled out a file from about a year ago, Native American art stolen from a museum and given to a small, local tribal museum as a ‘donation’ about six months later. Technically, once the tribe had it, the artwork couldn’t be taken back. Case after case was like this with Marmora, and honestly, Shiro  wasn’t sure if this guy really deserved to be caught. He started to spread casefiles over his desk, one by one, familiarizing himself with each. 

Marmora, as his calling card proclaimed, had hit several museums at least twice, sometimes three or four times depending on the travelling exhibits. Despite the best efforts of museums, he often managed to hit them regardless of whether he sent out a pre-warning or not. It was rare, but occasionally announcements would hit the news that Marmora planned to steal a particular item. However, they were often coded messages and heavy handed riddles that pointed to a painting of a panther, but then the panther’s eye emerald would disappear instead. Most of the time, when the announcements went out, there was very little time, but they always came with an exact date. 

Shiro made copies of all the riddles, every tip sent into the news, every announcement, and every single item that was actually stolen for each one. Maybe it was a long shot, but it was a start. He spent the rest of the day toiling over minute imagery and flowery wording. He then went through and poked about every single fake that had been made. It seemed that sculptures were never replaced with fakes, usually just something weighted the same to not trip the sensors, but sometimes gems would suddenly be plastic and paintings, paintings would often have incredibly accurate and delicate forgeries. So much so, they often wouldn’t be discovered until years after they’d been swapped. Lucky for the Police, Marmora’s calling cards often had years on them in wild curling script like it was mocking investigators whenever they came across an old one during an appraisal. 

These things all added up to something, Shiro was sure, but that didn’t mean he knew what the hell it was. It was far more likely that Marmora just didn’t have someone to make convincing fake gems or sculptures. They probably had someone for paintings and didn’t care that sculptures would be found quickly. The gems and sculptures were all meant to be found quickly, so obviously Marmora didn’t need to get far to hide.There was only one trackable pattern when it came to Marmora and that was that they stuck to, what Shiro guessed, must be their home city.

That made him laugh a moment, they were both obviously natives to this big city they lived in and now they were at odds. He always felt like everyone in the city deserved a chance, from the lowest slums to the highest towers, he hoped that they could all be anything they ever wanted, not unlike himself becoming a cop and then a detective. This person obviously, they took a very different path than he had. 

Shiro packed his things, stretching himself out at his desk before he headed home, his fat file under one arm, and his copies of all the riddles in another hand. He kept reading, over and over again. He wondered when they’d get another one, usually these capers were only a couple months apart. The items from the previous job never resurfaced before the next heist, and often, items might just never resurface at all. But the last heist, a painting from a travelling exhibit had gone missing, and that was almost three months ago now, he wondered what had slowed Marmora down so much.

He spent his night in front of the TV, news on and eating whatever odd leftovers were in his apartment. Shiro hoped for an announcement, breaking news, Marmora announcing his next target. There would be no catching the phantom thief if he didn’t announce his target. If things just went missing, it became almost impossible to do anything. This assignment was definitely a death sentence, but why did it have to be Shiro’s? 

* * *

Keith, in all his mildly scrawny glory, rolled out of his bed and nearly face planted on the floor. Okay, up too late the night before, he reminded himself he needed to get more sleep for the third time that week and stretched on his rug until he felt more like a person.

Once he could stand, he found himself a pair of joggers and a t-shirt, tucking into his sweatpants so it wouldn’t fall as he forced himself to do his morning routine. First things first, he got down on his hands and knees, popped his legs up in the air and reminded himself how to walk on his hands. It always took a hot second, even when he did this regularly, but he needed to be used to being upside down for a whole lot of reasons. 

When he walked out into the living room, taking the careful step down to walk past the couch where Pidge sat, a bowl of cereal in her hands already. She didn’t pay him any mind, watching the news and munching slowly. 

“I made coffee already,” she said, “But we’re out of milk again.” 

“Great,” Keith said, walking himself into the kitchen and righting himself. Walking on his hands in the kitchen usually went disastrously, so he avoided it now. “Are there eggs still, or did you eat all of those too?” 

“There are eggs,” Pidge said, “But Keith, we really need to bring in some money.” 

“I know, I know,” Keith said, “I have something lined up I think. That old guy? You know the one that’s been trying to get that other old rich dude to give up that painting? I think I have a deal worked out, a deal good enough that we’ll be covered for a year.” 

“You said that last time, and then you got all soft and wouldn’t take all the money.” Pidge turned to watch Keith pour himself a mug full of coffee and pull out the carton of eggs, “No getting soft Keith! I’m starting to think I should be handling accounts receivable.” 

“That was special! That little girl needed the money to go to college,” Keith said. 

“And we need money to eat.” Pidge’s voice was dry as a bone and she didn’t even quake at the sweet, charismatic smile Keith shot her. 

“Okay, I promise,” Keith said, “Scout’s honor, no getting soft with the old rich guy who is going to pay us a few million to steal a painting for him.” 

“So long as you promise, I will not take over accounts receivable.” She shifted on the couch, stretching her legs out in front of her and sighing softly. “My Dad called again this morning.” 

“Oh yeah?” Keith kept his attention on his eggs which were now in a frying pan, but he listened to Pidge as she spoke. He knew he needed to pay attention when her family came up. “What did he have to say?” 

“His usual, I could be doing more than cyber security, I shouldn’t be running around hunting internet cryptids and filtering through code.” She groaned, “and you know, I should join the force, a few years and I’d be doing great things, catching bad guys on the internet.” 

Keith slid his eggs onto a plate and grabbed the two pieces of toast from the toaster before he made his way back over to Pidge. He sat down across the couch from her, using his fingers to get one of the eggs onto his toast. “Did you tell him you’re actually the hacker for an international art thief and making more money than he could ever imagine?” 

Pidge laughed, “No, but I wish he’d stop pressuring me. I don’t want to be a cop, it’s bad enough he got through to Matt. I was so betrayed when he left for the academy.” 

“You can’t be mad at your brother Pidge,” Keith said, “Matt’s a good cop trying to do good things for the neighborhood. He turned down detective to stay a cop. That’s admirable.” 

“I know.” Pidge groaned, “Anyway, I just wish my dad would listen to me.” 

“I know,” Keith said. She smile at him and then set her bowl on the coffee table, stretching her arms above her head.

“So what’s the job? Where and who has this painting?” She cracked her back, two solid pops that Keith could hear and then dropped her hands on her lap. “Are there motion detectors? I love motion detectors.” 

“I know you do,” Keith said, “It’s travelling with an exhibit that will be at the Modus Museum in two weeks. This one is going to be complicated, because we’ve hit this museum before, and now they vault all travelling exhibits at night after closing.” 

“Oh yeah? So what’s the plan?” Pidge laughed watching Keith gracelessly eat his runny egg toast. 

“I’m thinking, find myself in the vault, swapit for a fake, the usual con, distract whichever flavor of the month detective is on the Marmora case with a riddle that will only seem obvious after I’ve taken the painting,” Keith said, “Getting out though. That’s the trickiest part, I think I might have to stow in the tarp bin, they take them for cleaning regularly.” 

“How big is the painting?” Pidge asked, “Are you going to use a disguise this time then? If it’s a con and not a heist?” 

“Yeah to get in I will,” Keith said, “I’ll need intel on the vault camera placement and blind spots by the way. Getting out is going to be break neck though, into the tarp bin, once im outside, I’m making a break for it. Of course, I’m sure you’ll have something to aid me there.”

Pidge lit up, “Yes gadgets! I have some new ones for you anyway, how big is the painting anyway?” 

Keith held his hands up over his chest, it wasn’t much smaller than the square of his shoulders and not much taller than his torso. He would be able to cradle it just fine. He always loved getting to hug the items he stole before he got away. 

“What if the tarp plan doesn’t work?” Pidge stood up, picking up her dirty bowl and heading into the kitchen. 

“Then I get to the top floor and repel my way down the building,” Keith said, “Absolute worst, I make it onto another rooftop.” 

“Got it, I’ll prep all the gadgets needed for all of those escape scenarios.” She set down her bowl and rinsed it just as Keith finished his second piece of toast. He followed her, setting his plate down next to her bowl. 

“And I’ll finish the painting,” Keith said, “Apparently his grandmother painted it. Our client that is.” 

“Oh how nice, I can see why he might want it back,” Pidge said. Keith laughed and tipped himself forward carefully, walking on his hands back into the living room, towards their little office, which was actually just the bedroom next to his own. But they kept all their gear there, all of it disguised as usual hobbyist stuff, backpacking gear or mountain climbing gear. Whatever made it look like they weren’t running an extensive phantom thief operation. 

Pidge followed him quickly, snickering to herself, “Are you going to paint upside down too?” 

“No.” Keith stuck his tongue out at her, “But I have to keep myself in shape, otherwise our whole operation would fall apart, my dear Pidgeon.” 

“Do not call me that.” Pidge swung herself into an old leather computer chair and curled her legs up underneath her. She then settled in, starting her research as Keith righted himself, working on his painting just behind her, perched on a stool as he painted. 

* * *

Shiro found himself waiting for Matt at a little halal restaurant where they often stopped during long shifts when they were still partners. He hadn’t found any new leads, and another Marmora tip hadn’t come up in the news or any of the online forums that sometimes hadd them, but that was rare anyway. So now, all Shiro could do was ask for advice, or at the very least, get some sympathy from an old partner.

When Matt showed up, he greeted the owner loudly, much the same way Shiro used to, but it had been so long, he wasn’t sure the owner would remember him anymore. By the time Matt sat down with him with a huff, his favorite sandwich on the menu in hand, Shiro had mostly finished his. Matt took a moment to look Shiro over before he started to talk. 

“Oh no,” Matt said, “You have that, ‘I’m going to run away to become a farmer instead of being chief of Police like I’ve always dreamed’ look on your face. What’s up buddy?” 

“Captain Sendak put me on the Marmora case,” Shiro said. Matt’s eyes blew up like balloons, his head tilting in concern. 

“Oh that’s, man. What did you do to him to make him hate you so much after just a year?” Matt asked. Shiro shook his head and shrugged. 

“I have no idea. He’s pulled me off cases before, but never like this. It’s always been pushing me towards cases he thought should be prioritized, this felt different.” Shiro sighed, picking up his sandwich and gnawing on the crusty falafel, “I’ve been doing well, taking on cases and solving the ones I can, the ones that are solvable, at least.” 

“Yeah, Dad said your track record has been good.” Matt’s brow furrowed, “Man Shiro, I’m sorry. You could always transfer? Request it from your captain?” 

“I don’t think it would get approved,” Shiro said, “It’s never been approved after someone gets Marmora. I either catch the thief or wallow in my lack of career in another couple months.” 

“Well.” Matt paused to chew and swallow, “Then just catch him Shiro. You were the best in our academy class, and the best detective in your class. If anyone can do it, it would be you.” 

“No one has ever caught them Matt,” Shiro said, “No one.” 

“But you’ve never been on the case before, have you?” He gave Shiro that stern look he always gave him when he was done listening to Shiro’s wallowing. So Shiro just sighed, heaving his chest and flinging himself into proper posture as he rolled his shoulders back. His chest puffed up, and he took another deep breath. 

“Okay, okay I know.” Shiro frowned and looked back at Matt, “I’ve got this, but I’m going to need you to have my back if I need it. Jurisdiction is out the window on this one, okay?” 

“Yes sir, there we go.” Matt laughed, clapping his hand on Shiro’s shoulder, “That’s the Shiro I grew up with.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Shiro took another bite out of his sandwich, “How’s your sister?” 

Matt sighed, “I don’t know, she hardly talks to me lately. I think it’s because Dad’s putting so much pressure on her to join the force in some way, but you know how she is. She doesn’t want it, he’s going to have to accept that eventually.” 

Shiro nodded, listening to Matt ramble for a while longer about some guy he was pretty sure that Pidge was dating, but she won’t let any of them meet him for more than a few minutes. Also, apparently, Matt was fairly confident it wouldn’t last even though they were living together. Shiro just sort of let him wear himself out talking about it since he didn’t have anything good advice for Matt. Eventually, Matt made it clear he was most worried they wouldn’t last because he was pretty rambled confident the guy was gay, which Shiro couldn’t really comment on either, so he let Matt talk about how worried he was about his sister getting crushed when she found out.

“I’m sure Katie will be fine Matt.” Shiro said, patting Matt on the shoulder, “She’s got that great job, and if she is dating the gay guy, I’m sure she won’t be crushed so much as you know, no longer in a relationship and suddenly in a friendship.” 

“Yeah, you’re right,” Matt said, “But I’ve been keeping a guest room for her just in case. I can cover my rent without a roommate anyway.” 

Shiro laughed, “You’re too good of a sibling, you put everyone else to shame. Don’t worry yourself sick about Katie, okay?” Matt nodded and then a small smile spread over his face. 

“Catch Marmora Shiro,” Matt said, “You’re a good cop. Don’t let Captain Sendak ruin a good career.” 

“I’m not going to,” Shiro said. He hugged Matt before he left, and watched him rush back to his patrol car to meet his new partner. Shiro followed up on a few things with one of their lawyers at the courthouse, he wanted to make sure none of his old cases got ruined just because he got taken off them. He eventually found himself on his way back to the precinct and then heading home for the day because there just wasn’t much else he could do. He took the Marmora file with him again, spreading it out over his coffee table. He was pretty sure there was a pattern of imagery used in the riddles, and it was the same every time It spread out in front of him like it was being asked to be solved. 

He sat, on the floor in front of his TV, watching the news and threading through the riddles over and over again. It always included two potential targets, and then it would sway in one direction or the other. There was no pattern to when it swayed to the correct side, or the incorrect side, but Shiro could see there was a pattern in the poetry that pointed to the actual target every time. The correct answer was always there, he just, needed to figure out how to spot it before the actual piece was stolen. 

Shiro toiled, his day off was the next day and he had the time, only catching the eleven o’clock news because he had decided to make himself food sometime around ten thirty. Now, he settled in, listening to the music and hearing the words he’d been hoping for. 

“Breaking news, in the last hour we have received word from the phantom thief Marmora.” The lady on the news spoke fast, Shiro scrambled for a pen and paper, scribbling down the poem word, for word. When she finished, he sat back, staring at the page: 

_ In my mind’s eye, I see the setting sun. _

_ It is forgotten, but was never gone. _

_ I look to find it once again.  _

 

_ My grandmother’s ring.  _

_ Where are you? Where will you land? _

_ Preferably, in my hand.  _

He stared, he turned the page upside down, he followed the patterns he’d created and start to cross reference exhibits on display and the poem. There were rings galore coming in from an ancient dynasty of the bronze age, but nobody’s grandmother is that old. Shiro devolved into carefully banging his head on the coffee table while sitting on a pillow with his back against the couch. He found himself stopping at three in the morning, regretting all of the life choices which led him to that point. 

Shiro had two decent ideas though. A painting famously being argued over by a man who had ‘rightfully bought it’ and the original painter’s grandson, and a set of royal rings that were on display with an exhibit about royal clothing. These rings were from the correct era, unlike the ancient rings from a few dynasties ago, and the painting itself would preferably land in the hands of the proper owner, which would explain the part of the poem about hands. 

Eventually, Shiro forced himself into bed. Settling his face into the pillow and sleeping straight until noon the next day on accident. When he did wake up, he was groggy, shifting to sit himself up against his headboard and look back over the notes on the scrap of paper he’d used to take down the poem. The heist was in four days, he had to figure out what he was going to do about it. 

Shiro decided slow and steady might be the best way to handle this case, so he got up with the intention of changing scenes in some way. He found himself staring at his now empty fridge, he hadn’t even noticed he’d eaten himself out of house and home, but it made his decision easier. Still groggy, Shiro pulled on sweats and a t-shirt, his trainers slid on like old friends and he was downstairs and down the street at the diner on the corner in five minutes. He could hear his mother telling him to learn to cook someday as he sat at the counter, notebook and scrap of paper in hand. 

Coffee and pancakes would make him less groggy, and add to his leftovers collection for later. The girl at the counter, light on her feet and quick to talk paused over him to look at the poem on the scrap of paper. She hummed, she knew Shiro on the level someone who knows all your favorite foods, but not your last name does. 

“Do you look like such a mess because you were up all night writing six lines?” She asked, setting down his plate of pancakes, followed by a second plate that was full of eggs and bacon. Shiro laughed, shaking his head briefly. 

“I wish, but I’m trying to figure out what it means,” he said. She looked it over more carefully, Shiro turning it to her so she could do so freely. 

“Oh, I know this, this is that Marmora’s tip off note from last night right?” She asked. Shiro nodded and she smiled, “I love that robber. I follow some online message boards about them. Did you know that they Robin Hood everything? Giving the money back to charity or sending the paintings back to their owners? That’s so cool right? And they must be a good painter too. They make all those fakes.” 

Shiro felt his head sink, “Ah, yeah. I mean, unless they get someone else to paint them for them. I’ve been put on their case, I’m a detective you know.” 

“Really? You seem too nice to be a cop.” She popped her hip and looked over the words again, “Sounds like they’re after something they want to return to me. But I’m no detective, Mr. Shirogane.” 

“This case is sort of a career killer,” Shiro said, “You’re probably lucky you aren’t.” 

She laughed and swiped another plate of bacon from the window, setting it down in front of him, “here, on the house. Cops are supposed to get a discount you know.” 

“I know, I don’t want it,” Shiro said. She laughed and said she knew, and Shiro fell right back into staring at the paper as he ate. She probably hit the nail on the head, and if the thief was returning something, it was most likely that it was the painting and not the royal rings. It’s not like those were literally stolen in any way, while the painting had been. 

Shiro finished his food, curling back up the moment he was in his apartment to take a nap. It wasn’t much longer than a couple hours before he was awake again and at the gym, figuring there was nothing better for him to do be doing and running always helped him form a plan.

* * *

Keith stretch himself out, reading over the plan one more time. He had warmed up, been warming up, for a few hours. His cover had been memorized, he synchronized his watch to Pidge’s computer, everything was absolutely set and he was certain that whatever detectives might be after him at the moment, they were probably sitting next to those royal rings waiting for him to never appear.

“Okay,” Pidge said, “I’ll run the feed to the cameras at exactly six o’clock when the paintings should all have been retarped and put into storage. It shouldn’t be difficult for you to swap the paintings then and switch what you’re wearing, you have your mask right?” 

“Yep.”

“You’ll have six minutes, once the feed changes, you should be in the tarp cart, which should be taken out by a lone man ten after six,” Pidge said, “But I already have a distraction for him set up. You’ll be pretending to be him, and by the time you’re outside, they’ll have no idea what happened.” 

“Yep.” 

“Get away will arrive two blocks away,” Pidge said, “Be there no later than six thirty, walk don’t run, you know the drill.” 

“Yep.” 

“You ready?” Pidge looked at him, his fake wrapped and stashed inside his briefcase. He’d had to hand carve the frame, but it was worth it. The frame and painting looked exactly like the original. 

“Absolutely,” Keith said, “I’ll be fine, business as usual.” Keith picked up his briefcase, his disguise cleverly tucked inside of it and stood up straight. He’d even grown a nice beard for this job and had it trimmed at a barber’s shop, in addition, he used some technical make-up skills he had to make his face look fatter and rounder so it would match the little extra chub he’d added under his suit. He really didn’t even look like himself at all. “Do I look like a museum curator?” 

“You look great.” Pidge smiled and they high fived before Keith left, taking the train to the museum. He walked himself inside, his hair slicked back, a fine suit on and a wide brimmed hat, just like the actual museum curator wore. His task was easy, he felt like Pidge’s part was far more difficult, Keith handing off his card to a security guard for it to be swiped before he gained access to the guts of the museum. 

No trouble, check one, he headed back, winding around a long way until he reached the room where the paintings had been put away for the night. It was six o’clock, Pidge’s feed would be running. They were all there, he looked them all over, finding the one he was looking for and checking for any security sensors. None, of course, the vault doors were going to close soon, so he swapped the real for the fake, tucking the real into his briefcase with ease. 

The briefcase went into the tarp cart, and then the standard issue, museum coveralls went over his suit and his hat into the cart with the tarps. He was mid changing when heard the voices, distant, but his only place of refuge was the tarp cart, so there he went, into the cart and under several layers of protective cloth with the briefcase in his lap. 

“I have a feeling that it’s more likely your painting than it is the Royal exhibit, sir,” the first voice said. Keith cringed, that couldn’t be possible. 

“Well Detective.” Keith heard the second voice and wanted to internally kick himself, “I highly doubt that the painting will go missing. We have been keeping them in his vault daily since they arrived.” 

Keith could scream. How had a detective found himself looking for this painting instead of the royal rings? He still only had two minutes until he needed to leave, otherwise he’d be trapped in the cart with no escape at all. He checked his watch, swallowed his pride and focused on breathing quietly. 

“Would you mind terribly if I watched your camera feed for the night? Just to be absolutely sure,” the detective said. Keith just hoped they left while he still had time left in Pidge’s feed. He was considering sending an S.O.S. but a text from inside the vault could be tricky in the first place. It wasn’t worth moving that much and potentially giving himself away. 

“Of course detective,” the other man said. It had to be the museum curator or something, and then in the next moment, he heard them both turn to leave, still chatting. Keith had one minute. As soon as he was sure they were gone based on the sound of their voices, he hoped they had left at least, he popped out of the cart, zipped up his coveralls and shook the gel out of his hair as best he could. 

He grabbed the cart, heading down the hallway slowly once he was out of the vault. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears for the first time in a long time, his face wallet in his pocket making him shake with concern. 

Unlucky enough for him, Keith was now going in the exact direction the curator and detective had started to walk. He reminded himself that his fake was perfect, he’d made it himself, no one was better. He tried to simply push his cart past, hearing what he guessed was a grumbling cleaning man who’d discovered there was no tarp cart in the vault yet. Feet shuffling in, and then away. 

“Oh, excuse me,” the detective stopped him. Keith didn’t panic, turning to the detective and honestly, he was more flustered than he was panicked. Most of the detectives that had been after Marmora in the past were fat old dudes, but this guy? He was young, pretty, a nice undercut with a soft and reassuring smile. Keith had to get over it quickly, pushing all his thoughts about this detective’s soft looking lips down fast. 

“Yes?” Keith said it evenly, luckily. 

“We think that there might be risk of a break in tonight,” the detective said, “would you mind keeping your eyes peeled for anything unusual today? Workers are often the ones who see the most in these situations.” 

He was polite too, Keith was surprised. Most people who got his case were desperate, knowing that the case would ultimately end their career because they just couldn’t catch Marmora. He thought for a moment about the calling card he’d left in the back of the paper on the canvas of the fake. Keith wondered how this detective would look when he found it. 

“Of course,” Keith said. The curator interrupted them though, telling the detective that the tarp cleaners didn’t stick around for a shift like other cleaners. They were a hired, outside service. The detective nodded to the curator, but he looked at Keith and mouthed the words, ‘thank you’, anyway. 

Keith carried on, nodding back to the detective and heading down the hallway, while the curator led the detective around a corner. Meanwhile, he walked down the long hallway to a small alcove where he could ditch the cart, getting his things out of it, and taking advantage of a camera blindspot to slip out a service door that Pidge had cut the alarm on. 

The fresh air hit Keith in the face and he felt like he breathed for the first time in twenty minutes. He headed down the dock, returning his coveralls to his briefcase alongside the original painting, but leaving his hat off. As he walked down the busy street, he looked like any other business person heading home a little late from his office job. 

* * *

Shiro looked over the camera room slowly, watching the the camera in the vault for a few moments. Nothing seemed off, the curator watched as a man who had changed the tarps on the paintings shuffled out with his cart. He hummed softly, looking over the feeds and then back at the vault.

Nothing seemed amiss. “Do you normally have two people take tarps out daily?” 

“We send the tarps out once a week,” the curator said, “so we keep a cart in vault, gather up tarps, and send them out and a new batch will come in.” 

“Can I review the footage for today?” Shiro asked. The curator nodded, talking to the technician briefly. They watched someone that looked to be another curator go in, Shiro’s eyes staying on him closely as he turned around and seemed to walk back out of the vault. “Are there any cameras in that hallway that would see where that person went?” 

The technician hummed and poked around before shaking his head, “it’s a blindspot.” 

“So we don’t know.” Shiro paused. “We don’t know if he left at all?” 

“Well, he turns to go out,” the curator said, “he was probably just lost.” 

“No,” Shiro said, “we need to check the paintings. Can you open the vault?” The curator looked appalled, his head shaking back and forth rapidly. 

“You can’t honestly think the painting was stolen between the time the man almost walked in there, and us going into the vault? We were in there only a few minutes after that clip.” The curator snapped his mouth shut, his face getting red and sweaty, “I mean, I can open the vault, but there is no way.” 

“Please, open the vault,” Shiro said, already heading out the door. The curator, scared, followed, gibbering about how this couldn’t be possible, that there was no way. Shiro shook his head, looking the vault over as the curator punched in codes and then used a physical key to open the vault. 

The curator pointed out the painting in question. Shiro pulled the tarp off, nervously picking up the piece and examining the frame. He ran his fingers over the bottom right hand corner of the backing, his head shaking. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. He poked his finger into the backing, which made the curator more frantic, until Shiro carefully pulled Marmora’s card out from between the layers of paper bag-like backing on the frame. “But it looks like they’ve already been here.” 

“There’s,” the curator’s face sank, “there’s no way, we were.” His voice trailed off, his entire being beginning to shake, “we were in here.” 

“Well, there’s two options here,” Shiro said, “either someone came and went before us, or they were in here while we were.” That didn’t seem to calm the curator down, he was in full panic mode as Shiro called into the station, asking for some back up to sweep the area, but Shiro knew Marmora was long gone. But even if they were, Shiro had gotten the riddle correct, and that had to be the start of the end, right? He watched the curator panic, and calmly looked over the calling card. They had a million of them, this one would get dusted for prints like all the others. Shiro watched the staff rush around, and he thought about the worker pushing the cart of tarps.

* * *

Keith climbed the stairs of his apartment, the drop-off complete and an armful of groceries in his hand. He opened the door to Pidge standing on the couch, a frying pan in hand as she looked over the floor quickly.

“What are you doing?” Keith closed the door behind him, watching Pidge jump nearly a foot in the air and landing softly on the squishy couch. 

“There was a mouse I swear!” Pidge jittered and looked around.

“You won’t even let me buy mouse traps.” Keith walked into the kitchen, setting down groceries and starting to pull them out. “If we don’t put down traps, there might be mice sometimes.” 

“I, I know that,” Pidge said and grimaced at him, “But this one startled me.” 

Keith lowered his shoulders and sighed. He’d be putting traps in the laundry room where she wouldn’t see them again. “Come on, come down and help me put this away.”

Pidge sighed and jumped off the couch, “Have you figured out how the detective figured out your riddle yet?” 

Keith stopped, glaring at Pidge a moment until she put her hands up and mouthed the word, ‘sorry’ at him. She started to help him tuck things away, the two of them moving quickly, and then Keith dropped some pasta into water to make dinner. When they finished, Pidge perched herself on the counter, swinging her legs as she noshed on strawberries while they waited for dinner. 

“So you really have no idea?” Pidge asked. Keith shook his head grimly. 

“He might have cracked the code. I’m starting to think we shouldn’t put one out for that job we’ve lined up,” Keith said. 

Pidge frowned, her lips pink from the berries, “No, I think we should. We don’t want to make him think that he’s caught onto us.” 

Keith sighed and bit his lip, “What if it was a fluke? He just sort of picked one?”

“It’s possible,” Pidge said, “And statistically likely, you only point to two targets in those things usually.” 

“Yeah, but I’m afraid I’ll give away that he did figure it out if I suddenly start adding a third.” Keith and Pidge stared at each other for a moment, the two of them at a strange impasse they couldn’t really do anything about. He’d figure it out, he always did, the next one just had to be harder. “Anyway, the next is a technical, scaling buildings and sneaking in through the roof, we don’t usually put out announcements for those anyway.” 

“True,” Pidge said, “I wonder who this guy is.” 

“Think you might know him?” Keith asked, he had yet to give Pidge a description of the detective, because he didn’t want to have to admit that he’d found him really attractive. He didn’t need her heckling in his life at that moment. 

“Maybe, not likely, I only know like three cops and they’re all related to me,” Pidge said, “We are major criminals you know.”

“That’s a good point,” Keith said. Pidge hopped off the counter as Keith drained the pasta, putting away the strawberries and grabbing two cans of coke before she heading to their couch. Keith dumped the pasta back into the pot it had been in, proceeding to just dump a jar of pasta sauce in after it. 

Once they’d sat down to eat, watching cartoons and chatting about the next job, they both calmed their collective nerves about the detective by making wild assumptions that he would be terrible at his job. It was about all they could do for now. Keith knew if they got scared, it could lead to a mistake that could put them both at risk. He just hoped they wouldn’t be seeing their last job anytime soon. 

* * *

Shiro squared up. He knew it was possible that Marmora had stolen the gem without ever making an announcement, and he really wasn’t surprised either. This gem was on a pressure sensor with a glass case around it which would set off an alarm if taken off. He knew it was part of the pattern too, that Marmora would never announce something so technically challenging before doing it. So Shiro looked around, his eyes on the walls and the floors that had some kind of motion detectors in them.

He needed to know the entry point, that would give him the best idea of how Marmora was even doing this in the first place. Shiro plodded over the area, looking at the ground just around the case until he stepped into a puddle. It had been raining all morning, but it was more water than usual for it to have gotten all the way into the museum. Shiro felt a drop of water hit his head

“Can you get me onto the roof?” Shiro asked, the director of this exhibit nodding quickly. 

“Yes, of course sir, why?” The director had already started to usher Shiro along towards an elevator. 

“I think I may have found the access point.” Shiro followed the short director onto the elevator, riding it up for what felt like a long time. The building was old, but Shiro really didn’t think that an elevator could go that slow, and worse, the director had to put a special key in it to go from the top floor to the roof. 

Once outside, Shiro carefully made his way over the gravel to the large, octagonal skylight that hung just above the gem. He followed the rain to where it could seep into the glass, pooling and dripping. It didn’t take him much to carefully lift the free pane off the frame, holding it up to the director and letting even more light in. 

“Please get a tarp, we need to take this for evidence,” Shiro said, waving someone over for the evidence team to come take the pane of glass. The director stood stunned in the elevator, holding the door open until Shiro was back inside. It still took him a moment to let the door close and the elevator start moving, stopping on just the next floor down to find a tarp and go back up. 

Shiro went straight to the ground floor, pausing with one of the forensics members to discuss handling the glass. He looked back up at the skylight, water dripping in as the director carefully pulled a tarp over the whole thing. It wasn’t anything really yet, but it was a start. Shiro shuffled the forensics team out, following along to the lab for results.

No prints on the glass meant nothing it had been raining all night after all, at most, it told them that the thief had cut the caulking free and maneuvered themself into the skylight, probably repelling down with rope. He sighed as he left the building, rubbing his temples and walking to his car in a huff. When he sat back down, he stared at the steering wheel until his vision was blurry. Four weeks, and nothing conclusive have come from this case, nothing new, just the same old shit and different items stolen. 

Putting his car in reverse, Shiro succumbed to the feeling that this was hopeless, his eyes tired by the time he was back at the station. He sat down, looking over the desk, someone stealing things this high profile probably didn’t even have a day job, he couldn’t even track down every acrobat in the city. 

He stopped, staring at a stoplight which glowed softly in the dark while he chewed on his lip, “acrobat.” 

* * *

Keith, paid and excitedly looking over some new gear he’d gotten, sat himself down on the coffee table and started to poke through the ropes. He loved the feeling of the threads on his fingers, sliding the rope over his palm gently. He squeezed it, reminding himself of how well it held his weight.

He had been living off the buzz of the last job for a few days. Keith had never done anything so clean, sliding himself down the rope anchored into the roof under the gravel. His body had felt weightless for a moment, working his hands down so he wouldn’t tear his gloves. It felt good, and though he was always cautious about using his credit card shortly after a big job, he did it anyway. 

Climbing was always something he worked on, he kept it up constantly, and to most people, he just looked like a free climbing lover. In reality, Keith needed it to scale buildings, but he never thought about that when he signed up for another gym. They would never know why he practiced so much anyway. 

He packed up his things in a backpack, heading out to the gym which was only a few train stops away. Pidge would have admonished him for joining something that kept records of his name and credit card, but he wasn’t really worried about it. And with that detective, Keith felt a need to keep himself sharp. Training soothed his anxiety, and as he got his climbing shoes on, he could already feel the worry rolling off his shoulders. 

Keith found himself wandering out of the locker room, looking down at his hands as he covered them in chalk. He hit someone that felt like a brick wall, stumbling back and shaking his head. 

“Shit, I’m so sorry.” He managed to catch Keith’s shoulder, his hand strong and helping to stabilize Keith as he tried to right himself on his own. “I should have been watching where I was going. Are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah.” Keith, rattled, but completely fine, looked up, his eyes hitting the worried puppy face and soft gray-ish fluff of hair that was currently laying in an unwieldy heap. His badge hung heavy around his neck, a nice dark purple shirt peaked out of an open trench coat. It had been raining for a few days, but it had started to clear up that morning, so at least Keith had not gotten rain water all over himself when he ran into the detective. The attractive, young detective that he knew was working the Marmora case. “S-Sorry, um, I’m fine. Thank you.” 

“You sure? You look a little pale,” he said. Keith’s eyes hit his badge briefly, and he nodded again. 

“Yep, great.” Keith mumbled, his voice pitching up weirdly as he made his escape towards the climbing wall. His heart stomped in his ears, glancing back and catching the detective staring at him for a moment before he walked away. Nothing unusual, just watching someone he’d run into walk away, and Keith reminded himself of that, he couldn’t be there at the same gym for anything but a coincidence. Although, he might want to pull his membership, but that might be more suspicious. 

Keith stood very still in front of the rock wall, taking a deep breath and setting his hands on the wall. He fit his grip into the holds and started to work his way up, swinging and spending some time just clinging with his hands or arms. If that detective was here, he definitely needed to keep himself sharp. Repeating the plans in his head from the last heist, he shifted himself up the wall slowly, just mumbling slightly about the museum. 

“Up the wall, through the skylight,” he mumbled, “Repel, hang upside down, use the knife to pop the case open, keep the pressure even, remove the jewel, replace it with the fake….”

He was calm by the time he’d reached the top of the rock wall, looking down as the detective spoke with the owner of the gym. They looked like old friends, so maybe all the detective had figured out was that he used rock climbing skills to pull off more complicated heists. Keith would go to someone he knew and trusted for information like that too, and as he watched the two of them talk, he couldn’t help but admire the detective for catching onto that. He was pretty sure no other detective had yet. 

“Fuck.” He headed for the stairs at the back of the climbing wall. What the hell was Keith thinking, admiring the fucking detective. He shook off the feeling, rounded the wall and found a different spot to start, making his way up quickly and doing it twice more until he’d calmed down completely. He watched the detective leave from the top of the wall, taking a deep breath and burying himself in the thought of a heist. Keith needed another heist.

* * *

Shiro shifted himself in the closet he’d decided was post. The owner had tentatively allowed him to hide himself in a blind spot of the security cameras in the dank wine cellar closet. He didn’t love it, but honestly this was his best shot at getting even a glimpse of Marmora. The cellar floor had pressure sensors that would be set off if Marmora stepped down on them, so at the very least, through the vent holes on the closet door, Shiro might have the chance to see the thief in action and work on counter measures.

He sat close to the door, staring at the racks of wine. Shiro prayed that the bottle that Marmora said he would be stealing that night was in sight lines of closet. If not, he’d figure out what he needed to do next once Marmora showed up. Shiro could always try to actually arrest them. Who knew if he’d actually manage to  _ get _ them. 

An hour or so went by slowly, Shiro could hear the party upstairs, an easy way for Marmora to work themself in. A guest, staff, a date, they could anything they wanted to be and then they could be down in the cellar and out the door with the wine without any trouble at all. 

Shiro was starting to get a read on Marmora though, from his perspective, this had to be someone trained, rock climbing and maybe acrobatics. A lot of the previous detectives had assumed it was someone on the inside of the social circles or maybe someone who had a lot of money, which Shiro didn’t doubt, but the more he dug, the more he found money going to charities of all sorts just days after any heist. Most internet forums saw Marmora as a bit of a robin hood, and Shiro had started to believe it. 

In addition, his profile included a kid who grew up of lesser means, an orphan or someone very poor. Most of the donations went to charities that benefitted young children and orphanages. Orphanages galore, nearly every orphanage in the city had received some sort of donation that was roughly the estimate value of something that Marmora had stolen within a week of the item being taken. Shiro knew for sure it was connected, he’d made one hell of a spreadsheet at three in the morning. 

He really needed to start getting more sleep. 

Worse than that though, in his haze, he was starting to admire this asshole. They donated a lot of the money, they stole things that had been stolen from the original owners, hundreds of which had gone missing during the holocaust. Robin Hood would be a more apt name if he hadn’t named himself Marmora. Shiro hadn’t started to research that name, but he was starting to think it might mean something like Robin Hood. His head started to go in circles, his eyes on the dark cellar until suddenly, a light popped on. 

Shiro shifted, his hand touching the doorknob of the closet, his eyes on the aisle of wine shelves in front of the closet. It was dank, and dark, and smelled heavily of the wood racks which stood in rows and took up most of the room. Mostly though, it was quiet, alone with his thoughts, Shiro couldn’t help but trail around endlessly about how he shouldn’t be trying to solve this case. Instead, he forced himself to go through the old case he’d been working on, the mafia case. 

He reviewed details in his head slowly, because it was the only way to occupy himself. Another thirty went by, and Shiro was starting to think he should give up, steal some fancy hors d'oeuvres from the party before going home with his tail between his legs. Setting his head on the door, he took a deep breath, readying himself to set off the alarm in the wine cellar until, saving his sanity, he heard a metallic pop. 

His eyes followed the sound through the vents in the door the best they could, looking for what could have possibly made that noise in the wooden hell he’d found himself in. It took a moment, and he could hardly be sure that was where the noise came from until he saw the hand reach out of it, but there was Marmora’s hand, pulling the HVAC return cover into the vent and crawling out. 

Shiro, stunned silent, could see the figure, slight and wearing a mask carefully raised their hand just above the vent holding some kind of device. The strange gun-like body at first worried Shiro a bit, his hand settling on his side arm until he heard a dull popping noise. Marmora then carefully smacked the device into the wall above the vent so that it would stick. 

It took a moment in the darkness, but Shiro could barely made out what looked to be a tight chord now running from just above the vent to where he guess it met the wall on the other side. Tempted to burst out, he shimmied in his spot, trying to stay as quiet as possible, but some part of him told him to wait. He needed to wait and see what happened next. 

Marmora had another device in their hand now, shooting it at the ceiling and leaving the other end to dangle. The thief shifted, getting their feet underneath them in the vent. Shiro, still at a loss as to what they could be up to, watched Marmora step up from the vent, using the rope they had hanging from the ceiling as a handle, and onto the tightrope they’d created using the first device. Honestly, if Shiro didn’t have a sworn duty to catch this criminal, he would have been nothing but impressed. This was like something out of a movie. 

Then again, he wasn’t really sworn to catching this Robin Hood. No, no he was for the sake of his job obligated to bring Marmora in, who was just Marmora and not Robin Hood at all, but Shiro, in awe of the completely wrapped thief carefully tightrope walking his way to whatever he had his eye on. It was sort of entrancing. 

It took until Marmora, carefully poking over the bottles and checking a screen built into the arm of the suit he had on for Shiro to realize he needed to move. He knew he’d set off the alarm as soon as he left the closet, so he stood, reading his taser and setting a hand on the door handle. This time, he paused because he actually heard a voice. Garbled under the mask, Shiro heard it, something in the history of the Marmora case no one had ever been able to confirm. 

“It’s the 1962 Chateau Montelena, right?” Marmora’s voice came out soft and low, spoken with their head cocked towards their right. Shiro watched closely, the slightly concerned posture and careful nod once they’d obviously gotten a confirmation. Marmora had an accomplice. They were talking to someone on some kind of communications device, probably built into the mask they had on. 

Shiro ground his teeth down, his hand moving naturally to press down on the closet door so he could fling it open. 

* * *

The glaring alarm noise knocked Keith backward, his hip connecting with the floor in a way that was so painful he couldn’t describe it. He reeled, his head spinning and his body moving on its own.

“Marmora is that the alarm? What the fuck is happening?” Pidge’s voice hit his ear with a shrill panic hiding just underneath the attempt at staying calm. There was no way she couldn’t hear the screeching and blaring noise as Keith’s body carried him up off the ground. 

“Stop, Police.” The detective stood strong, an aisle over, moving towards Keith fast with something in his hand, probably as gun, Keith didn’t want to find out. “You’re under arrest for breaking and entering.” 

Guards had started to pound down the stairs, Keith stopped, taking one look at the detective coming at him and then one at the stairwell. He popped the tightrope from the wall, not even really aiming before he chucked it at the detective. It worked somehow, the detective stumbling back and out of the way of the useless blunted dart that had been destroyed by the wall already. 

Keith dove into the HVAC return, his adrenaline driving him now as he shimmied his way through the vents. Pidge’s voice was somewhere in the mix, her frantic typing coming over the communication line now. That detective had broader shoulders than him, he was banking on him not being able to follow, which might not have been the best plan. This rich dude’s house was fitted with some of the largest registers Keith had ever seen. Honestly, they might have been intended as an escape route for the owner, for all Keith new, he could be crawling right on into a trap. 

He tried not to think about that, the detective crawling into the register after him and the bark of guards giving out orders. Keith had never even come this close to being caught before, he had plans for it, but he never thought he’d actually have to use them. 

His arms dragged him around a corner, bracing his feet on a metal wall and sliding himself as fast as he could along the next vent. He had memorized the layout, thank god, and as soon as he came to a four way intersection, he was able to turn right, turn left and then climb up and out of an air return on the ground floor in an empty room. Keith huffed softly, returning the grate and listening as the detective’s swearing echoed through the vents. 

Keith knew he wasn’t safe though, he poked around the room, finding the nearest window. It wasn’t very large, but he could probably fit through it. He braced his toes on some fancy looking book shelf, and with a little hope he was able to grab onto the window sill. The detective must have figured him out, Keith could hear him struggling to right himself so he could climb up and out of the grate the same way Keith had. Luckily Keith did this all the time and trained constantly. 

“Marmora, guard dogs, be careful outside.” Pidge’s voice was finally coherent for the first time in a while, all of the banging of the vents had drowned it out. The detective popped through the vent, coughing and holding a taser out as Keith carefully kicked the shelf he’d used to get up over. 

He watched the shelf fall, the detective managing to keep himself out of the way as Keith worked the window open. To Keith’s surprise, the detective wasn’t at his heels as he struggled with the window, instead, the detective stared at the back of the shelf, a now revealed compartment hanging open where there shouldn’t have been one. No wonder it was so easy to kick over, the books in it were just for show, hollowed out with gaping compartments in the back full of all sorts of stuff probably. 

However, what the detective was staring at in that very moment was a white powdery substance that was now all over the back of the shelf, plastic bag torn open from the fall. The detective met Keith’s eyes for a moment, and Keith could see the raw frustration there. Working the Marmora case wasn’t easy, Keith knew that because he knew he could escape any cop, but for a second he felt a weird amount of empathy with the detective, sitting on the floor, realizing that he couldn’t rightfully chase Keith and leave all that cocaine behind. 

The detective pulled his radio, “this is Detective Shirogane, I need backup at the Yurak residence asap. I just found a large amount of cocaine in what looks to be….” Keith watched the detective look around in stunned silence, “Vesuvio Yurak’s private study.” 

“Keith, Keith why haven’t you left?” Pidge’s voice brought him back to reality, knocking the window open and looking back briefly at the detective. Shirogane, Keith repeated it to himself in his head. 

“He has ties to the mob on the docks,” Keith said. 

“What?” Pidge’s voice sounded distant. Keith’s eyes stayed locked on the detective, he knew that he couldn’t see Keith under the mask or really recognize his voice even, so it should be safe. 

“Intel from the client.” Keith hopped up, easily sliding himself through the small window and then dropping to the ground below with a roll. He booked it down into the woods, Pidge’s voice calmly guiding him to a road and to a deserted area where she could pick him up. When he got in, she tossed a shirt and some pants at him, so Keith changed. Keith didn’t even have the wine on him, he had really screwed up.

“Who were you talking to back there?” Pidge was being surprisingly gentle, he could tell she wanted to scream at him for messing up, “what happened?” 

“No one,” Keith said, “I’ll tell you when we get home.”

* * *

Shiro spent the rest of the night in the precinct, writing up paperwork to put Yurak in jail hopefully. The only issue he still had to face was the fact that he could easily make bail and ditch. He needed to tie him to the mob on the docks, but he wasn’t sure how to justify that or explain it considering the information had come from Marmora.

Why Marmora even told him any of that was a better question anyway. Shiro couldn’t help thinking about Marmora’s voice wondering what it must sound without the mask on. He shook his head hard, trying to push away that thought and telling himself it mst just be a lack of sleep. He went back to typing, slowly, trying to finish out the paperwork. It had probably been pity.

The thief pitied him. That easily had to be the worst realization he’d come to in a long time. So much so, he didn’t even notice Captain Sendak walking up to his desk until he smacked his hand down on it to get Shiro’s attention. 

“C-Can I help you, sir?” Shiro’s eyes started to water, the lack of sleep getting to him as he stifled a yawn despite having just been startled. 

“My office, now.” Captain Sendak didn’t say another word, ushering Shiro into his office and closing the door behind them. Shiro sat down when instructed, his palms going sweaty as Captain Sendak visibly clenched his jaw and his fists opened and closed in odd patterns. “What in  _ hell _ were you doing in Vesuvio Yurak’s wine cellar last night?”

“I was waiting out Marmora, from the intel I’d gathered and his last announcement, I figure out that he was trying to steal a bottle of wine that Mr. Yurak had in his wine cellar,” Shiro said, “I received permission to be there in case Marmora showed up, and he did.” 

“Do you expect me to believe that?” Sendak sat back into the chair with a thud, his hand going out to pick up a cup of coffee that had to be at least a day old. Shiro watched, squinting and trying to comprehend that. 

“Because it’s the truth,” Shiro said, “I know Yurak has mob ties and I maybe shouldn’t have tried to work with–”

“Oh yeah it’s the truth, then how come not one of Yurak’s thirty security cameras caught Marmora on tape?” Sendak clacked his coffee mug back down on the table, some of the coffee splashing out as he cleared his throat and then looked Shiro in the eyes again. “How come one of our supposed finest hid himself in a closet for several hours, only to set off an alarm in the basement of one of the most notorious mobsters in the city, and then go running through his vents, causing a shit ton of damage, all to end up calling in a false drug report.” 

“What?” Shiro shifted in his seat and locked his jaw for a moment, gnawing on the inside of his cheek. “Sir, I don’t understand, I found a large amount of cocaine in Yurak’s study. Regardless of whether Marmora was there or not, I was let into his home on good faith for a separate investigation and found evidence of a crime.”

“That’s not what the officers who showed up have told me,” Sendak said. “They arrived on the scene, arrested Yurak and then searched the entire house and found absolutely no cocaine.” 

Shiro stared, his head pounding suddenly. He knew it was wrong, he watched Sendak’s lips move, his head turning over something that didn’t add up. He’d handed the responding uniformed cops a bag of cocaine that he had picked up, he’d touched it, Shiro probably had some on his coat. Something was off. 

“Sir, I’m not sure if the substance I found was cocaine, I didn’t check it,” Shiro said, “I apologize if they found something else and Yurak was brought in under false pretenses, but I found a very large amount of white powder in his study after a very large bookshelf was knocked over in pursuit of someone I thought was Marmora.” 

“Uh huh, that’s what you’re sticking to?” Sendak stared Shiro down for a moment, and Shiro nodded. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“You’re suspended,” Sendak said, “One week, as I have a mobster who can now claim Police harassment.” 

“Sir, wait, I’m close on Marmora–”

“One week’s suspension, two months probation.” Sendak held his hand up in Shiro’s face and sipped at the day old coffee again. “You’re lucky it’s not a full month and six months probation. You only got off like this because your record is so clean. Now, get out, go home, and think about how you could prove that Marmora was actually there and that you didn’t trip that alarm yourself.” 

“Yes, sir.” Shiro got up, dejected and picked up his things from his desk on the way out. It didn’t add up, no, but Shiro didn’t need it to for now. He slipped his overcoat on and headed out of the precinct with his coworkers staring. Shiro needed sleep, but Shiro also needed to talk to the uniformed officers who’d responded to his call. But sleep, sleep had to come first. 

* * *

Keith woke, his head hurting and his breath short for a moment. He carefully folded over the side of the bed, pushing himself up and onto his hands. He took two steps, finding himself suddenly so weak he had to settle himself back down on the ground face first. At least he hadn't fallen, his cheek on the rug and the room feeling terribly cold there on the floor for a moment.

“What are you doing?” Pidge stood in his doorway, watching him lay on the floor. 

“I fucked up a job Pidge, the Detective almost caught me.” Keith shifted to push himself up slightly, looking at Pidge as she silently judged him from where she stood. 

“The detective was only there because you insist on sending those ridiculous tip-offs to the news.” Pidge crossed her arms, “no more tip offs, only stealing and you don’t get to argue about that one.” 

Keith sighed, “yeah, you’re right.” 

“We have to try for that wine again, no wine, no money.” Pidge walked over and set her foot on Keith’s shoulder, gently pushing him back to the ground and Keith just let her. “And no, you’re not allowed to back out on it now, we’ve already signed a contract.”

“I know.” Keith whined and let Pidge set her foot on the back of his head, “I’ll be fine. I’m not exactly one to give up.”

“I know.” Pidge sighed, “we’re going to have to be careful though, Yurak has apparently doubled security.” 

“Wait, what? He’s not in jail?” Keith picked his head up, knocking Pidge’s foot off him while pushing himself to his knees. 

“What do you mean?” Pidge crossed her arms, her head ticking to the side. 

“Well, when I was escaping the detective was like, right behind me,” Keith said. Pidge’s eyes damn near popped out of her head, “don’t worry, don’t worry. Anyway, when I was in the study, I kicked a bookcase down to try and slow him down before going through a window. There was like, six pounds of cocaine in that bookcase, the detective stopped chasing me to deal with the cocaine.” 

Pidge furrowed her brow, “That is really weird. Yurak is definitely out, let me run some stuff and see if he just posted bond or something.” 

“Good idea.” Keith hopped up, following Pidge out of his room and into their office, which currently had three piles of various climbing gear, a half painted false label for the bottle of wine they were going to swap for the real one pinned to a board on an easel, Pidge’s desk which was covered in all her usual stress foods, and at least two plates that were pretty much clean but she had put a sandwich on them and now they were technically dirty. 

“So why exactly did you hesitate in the study so long? And why’d you mention Yurak having mob ties? Were you telling that detective?” Pidge ran her hand over her neck and stretched her shoulder out as she settled into the comfortable computer chair, one of the few purchases she’d allowed herself after the last donation they’d made. 

Keith stared at Pidge for a moment, trying to find words or any feasible explanation for what he had done, but all his thoughts wouldn’t gather into an explanation that made sense. So he resigned himself to Pidge’s wrath, “Yeah. I told the detective.” 

“Keith.” Pidge had her eyes on her computer screen, her fingers going a mile a minute as she moved through a few different cracked databases that they used all the time to run background checks on clients. “Why did you tell the detective about the mob ties we found on Yurak?” 

“Well, I don’t know,” Keith said, “He looked so… pitiful on the ground gaping at the cocaine I felt sort of bad for him. Normally the guys that get put on the Marmora case are old and look like they don’t have much of a career left anyway. This detective isn’t like that.” 

“Pitiful or not Keith, he’s not on our side,” Pidge said, turning back to look at Keith. She dropped her shoulders and frowned, “You don’t get to fraternize with the enemy if I can hardly talk to my brother and parents.” 

Keith bit his lip. “I know, I know. It won’t happen again Pidge. I promise. Also, you should call your mom and dad. They won’t suspect you of anything from a call.” 

“No.” Pidge sighed and turned back to her computer, “It’s not worth the risk. Maybe I’ll go visit, no funny business can happen if I’m there in person.” 

Keith frowned, glancing at Pidge’s computer screen and then wandering over to look at the second wine label. He had decided the first he’d made was good enough, so he’d stopped mid-way through making this one. Sweeping up his pen, he dipped it into the ink so he could start on it again. It was something to do with his hands at least. 

“Yurak isn’t in jail.” Pidge had her hand over her mouth as she carefully read through the documents she’d pulled up. She started to poke through files, reading bits aloud as she did, “In fact, he’s been brought in for drug possession on several occasions, but no charges have ever been brought against him. Every time, the cop working his case has gotten pulled off it, transferred, or has resigned on their own.” 

“Really?” Keith was too focused on some grape leaves he was drawing to sound surprised, “Sounds like he’s got someone on the inside. Who was the last person on his case?” 

Pidge was quiet for a while, “Well, the last person who potentially had a case against him was apparently on a thread that could tie Yurak to Police corruption. Oh no, Keith.”

“What?” Keith stopped what he was doing, looking at Pidge now as she turned away from her computer. 

“This is Matt’s old partner.” Pidge rubbed her jaw nervously, reading over the files, “It looks like he was close though, but the case got dropped in its entirety when he was pulled from it.” 

“Oh, is that all? I’m not surprised you know him Pidge, everyone you know is a cop.” Keith went back to the wine label, carefully scratching in some details. It was just enough to make it look like it had been done on a high end printing press to someone who didn’t know what they were looking at. 

“I mean,” Pidge paused, “Yeah, but it still sucks. Shiro’s only a couple years older than Matt, and it sucks to see that he’s already under the thumb of more corrupt agents. He might not even know it.” 

“Think it’s the person in charge of organized crime then?” Keith glanced at her and she shook her head. 

“You’re thinking of the FBI,” Pidge said, “that’s not how Police Departments work.” 

“Oh,” Keith said and sat up, “Sorry, I tend to be running from the FBI far more often than the Altea Police Department. They’re the ones that can usually catch up to me.” 

“Until this guy you’ve obviously got a thing for,” Pidge said. Keith whipped his head around to look at her, glaring as he pointed his pen her way. 

“Don’t get started on that,” Keith said, “That is  _ not  _ why I told that detective about Yurak.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Pidge chuckled and turned back to her computer, pulling up a few new pages, “So. The bottle of wine, what are we going to do about that?” 

“Well,” Keith said, “We need the money, and I get the feeling our buyer isn’t going to know the difference between the label I’ve made, and the real label.” 

“You’re going to try and give him a fake?” Pidge spun her chair around quickly, “Keith, he’s paying us fifteen grand for that bottle. Is that a good idea?” 

Keith paused, “Well I mean. There’s no way we’re getting back into Yurak’s wine cellar anytime soon. Plus, I doubt that bottle of wine isn’t in Police custody right now. Unless you have another way, or another source, we don’t have a lot of options.”

“Well,” Pidge said, “The Police evidence locker probably has a lot less security than Yurak’s.” Her voice trailed off, her eyes up on the ceiling as she hopefully thought about that idea more and realized just how dumb it was. 

“How about this, we try my plan, and then we try the plan where we break into the APD evidence locker? If we’re desperate.” Keith looked at Pidge and stared her down until she sighed. 

“All right, you’re right. I’ll set up the pick up,” she said. 

“Thank you.” 

Four days later and the ink on the wine label was dry, and two days after that it was glued to a twenty dollar bottle of wine that happened to come in the same color and shape as the 1962 Chateau Montelena. Keith just hoped the buyer wouldn’t notice. 

Suiting up and following Pidge’s directions to the letter, Keith made quick work of triple checking he had everything that he needed before he left for the drop point. It helped that he had Pidge in his ear at all times, his hood up as he walked through the town. His helmet was clipped to his belt so that it was hidden against his back. 

He always went to drop offs in his Marmora suit, it was non-descript enough that he didn’t worry about anyone being able to really identify it. He never collected money either. At this point, they’d grown smarter than that. Wire transfers, deleted paper trails, fake noses and fake fingerprints tended to do better than carrying around a briefcase full of cash. 

Keith waited quietly inside the warehouse near the docs. He could hear Pidge typing over the comms, but she stayed quiet. She only chattered during actual stealing, never during drop offs. When the car pulled up, Keith stood up, his fingers around the neck of the bottle as he did his best to turn up the confidence. He couldn’t just pretend he was holding a bottle of 1962 Chateau Montelena, he had to believe it himself. 

The man was burly, a thick scar over his right eye, and slick black hair that looked like it had far too much oil in it. Keith held himself perfectly still as he approached, his hand in one pocket, because although he hated guns, he knew to keep at least one weapon on him at any drop. His buyer titled his head, looking down at the bottle and cracking his knuckles. Something about this guy put Keith off, he was tall and meaty, something about him always came off as threatening in the way the parents of other children came off threatening to Keith when he was a kid. It was like he always advocated for someone other than Keith and he would do whatever was in his power to make others miserable in the process while simultaneously looking like the good guy in the situation.

“Are you seriously holding a bottle?” He asked. Keith heard Pidge’s typing stop, obviously already on edge despite the small comment. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Keith said, “You asked for a bottle of wine. I brought you a bottle of wine.” Keith’s fake accent was thick and landed somewhere in his Korean heritage. He never used his real voice either. 

“Not the right bottle of wine,” the buyer crossed his arms, two men flanking him, but honestly, he made them look like children. “I know that Yurak got raided, I know that bottle of wine is in an evidence locker with the Altea Police Department, I’m not stupid.” 

“How would you know that? Yurak is a free man, is he not?” Keith looked between the three men and carefully tossed the bottle to the buyer before sliding his hand back into his pocket. “Why would APD have his wine bottle if he has done nothing wrong?” 

“Because you touched it before nearly getting caught by that idiot detective on your case,” the buyer held the bottle off and then threw it off towards the wall, the bottle shattering. Keith felt a twinge in his stomach, but he didn’t move, and he certainly didn’t talk either.

“Keith, something’s wrong, he knows things about that haven’t been released to the public,” Pidge said. Keith frowned, his eyes on his buyer and his ears on Pidge’s words as Keith kept up the staring contest, “The public doesn’t even know that you were in Yurak’s house, just that it got unsuccessfully raided.”  

“What?” The buyer chuckled, “Are you realizing that maybe you shouldn’t have taken this job? Here’s the thing, I know you like to think you’re so good no one will ever catch you, but that detective, he’s onto your tricks, but here’s the other thing, so am I.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Keith steeled himself, trying not to let any emotion read on his face at all. 

“Isn’t it obvious? You’re shaken, but that doesn’t matter,” the buyer lowered his eyes and smiled in a way that made Keith sick, “Either you get me that wine and I don’t pay a dime, or I make that detective disappear. I need him gone anyway.” 

“Keith, keep him talking, I’m going to try and see if I can use his voice to identify him,” Pidge said. She must have thought this was going South from the start. Keith thought for a short moment and then looked at the buyer directly, doing his best to memorize his face. 

Keith felt his blood boil for a moment. “So I bring you the wine, the detective doesn’t get hurt and then this is over?” 

“Oh no,” the buyer chuckled and Keith ran his finger over a button hidden in the pocket of his pants. It activated the little camera in the button of his shirt. Hopefully it would be enough for Pidge to work off of. “You’ll be my personal lap dog for the rest of our careers, and if you slip up, well I’m sure you don’t want anyone’s death on your conscience, do you? So don’t slip up.” 

“I’ll do it,” Keith said, “Just don’t hurt anyone who doesn’t need to be hurt.” 

“Good puppy,” the buyer smirked, and as he turned to go back to his car, he waved. “Start with the wine, I’ll give you your next orders after that.”

Keith watched the other two men turn around, and once they had he was out an odd entrance and taking backways to get to his bike. He kick started it and grunted softly to himself as he slipped his helmet on. 

“Keith are you serious? What are you going to do?” Pidge, frantically typing, promptly added, “I’m already working on the photo you took.” 

“Good, and don’t worry. I have a plan.” 

* * *

Shiro settled himself over the files he had laid out, for the third time that day, in a new order and stared at them, for as long as he could before he realized that this wasn’t helping. He wasn’t even supposed to have this case file, the only reason he did was because Matt was generous enough to sneak it off his desk at the precinct and bring it to him. Shiro had been so close, but now without the resources of being in the office, he was pretty sure he’d probably lost Marmora’s trail for a while and Marmora probably wasn’t about to put out any more heist announcements.

He groaned, leaning back into his couch and running his fingers through his hair, which had gotten pretty gross over the past few days. Shiro picked up his phone, noting that not only was it Saturday, but also that he hadn’t showered or slept much in four days, and texted Matt. His response was fast luckily, and Shiro found himself in the shower and on his way to get something to eat fairly quickly. Being outside sounded much better than staring at his stagnant file any longer. 

Matt was happy to see him, bright eyed and holding a beer in a booth near the back of an old bar that was known for serving the Altea Police force. It wasn’t the kind of place Shiro normally found himself in, but cold beer and chatting with Matt made him feel more human. 

“So.” Matt finally leaned back in the booth and swiped a few of Shiro’s fries, “what got you suspended?” 

Shiro sighed and rolled his eyes, “Well, I was holed up in Yurak’s house because I had reason to believe that Marmora was going to be stealing a bottle of wine from his well-stocked wine cellar.” 

“Uh huh.” Matt raised a brow, since nothing technically had gone out to the public about this, Shiro wasn’t surprised that Matt looked like he knew nothing about it. 

“And I was right, Marmora was there.” Shiro said, “I spooked him, he ran, I chased him upstairs to Yurak’s study where he kicked over a bookcase that revealed probably twenty pounds of cocaine that Yurak had been hiding in a compartment there.” 

Matt furrowed his brow, looking down at the table, “So you got suspended for going after Yurak instead of Marmora?” 

“No,” Shiro said, taking a long swig of his beer, “I got suspended because despite calling it in right away, they found no evidence of Marmora being in the house, or the cocaine.” 

“What?” Matt frowned and then tapped his finger on the side of his bottle, “That’s, really weird. You saw it all first hand?” Shiro nodded and Matt continued, “Then someone from APD protected Yurak. What about Marmora?” 

“They supposedly never showed on the camera,” Shiro said, “But that’s not a surprise at this point they’re never caught by a camera, they’ve got an expert hacker I swear.” 

“That’s interesting, you’re running down the Marmora accomplice theory?” Matt shifted in his seat and leaned his arms on the table, his hands cradling his beer bottle. 

“It’s more than a theory, I heard them talking to someone in the wine cellar.” Shiro frowned, “They had a mask on, a mask with creepy glowing eyes on it, but they definitely talked to someone over a communication system of some sort.” 

Matt hummed softly, “Sounds like something out of a mystery novel.” 

“I know right?” Shiro laughed and shook his head, “This is either going to make or break my career, I’m not really sure which.” 

“Catching a Phantom Thief like that could land you a job at Interpol for all you know Shiro,” Matt said and smiled, glancing out at a pretty girl at the bar for a moment, “Or it could land you in the middle of a corruption scandal and Internal Affairs will take it over before you catch the guy.” 

“That would be just my luck.” Shiro groaned and Matt refocused, trying to cheer Shiro up with another beer. They ate while talking about the academy, letting all current work drop. It felt good, even if Shiro found his head wandering back to files he’d seen in the precinct that he wished he had at home. By the time he’d had a few drinks though, he had forgotten about work entirely and he was focused on teasing Matt about a crush he had on one of the other beat officers. 

Eventually, Matt crawled into an uber half asleep, and Shiro who had somehow not gotten nearly as drunk, rode with him until he was home. Matt managed to unlock the door by himself, so Shiro deemed him safe to leave alone before he caught the train back up to his part of town. The streets were quiet, the sprawling city seeming to go soft in his little neighborhood. The trees lined the street in a way that blocked out some of the streetlights and made them glow orange against the roofs of cars parked along the curb. He liked his street like this, Altea city had always been such a pretty place.  

He was tired and still tipsy, smiling and humming softly as he slipped into his building and up the stairs. It was about there that he noticed something off, his happy buzz ebbing to make way for the wooly feeling he got whenever he needed to focus on something important while he’d been drinking. Shiro didn’t have anything to defend himself with, the door to his apartment just slightly ajar with all of the lights off, even the one he’d normally leave on in the hall when he went out. 

Shiro shook his head, carefully creeping into his apartment to grab the baseball bat he kept near the door and stopped dead when he saw two glowing eyes. There was just a vague outline of a person, the amount of black they had on helped conceal them, but Shiro had a pretty good idea of who it had to be, his eyes hitting the purple lights before he carefully flicked on the hall light switch, his baseball bat out. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Part II**

“What are you doing here?” Shiro said, he closed the door behind him slowly. Marmora wasn’t moving, just standing there quietly behind Shiro’s couch. Shiro’s sidearm was back at the precinct, his badge too, he didn’t even have a radio nearby in case he needed it. He was on his own.

Marmora held up a short knife, or a dagger maybe, Shiro didn’t really know the difference, but it wasn’t out of its sheath at least. Shiro readied his bat regardless. He was surprised when the thief carefully dropped the sheathed knife onto the couch in front of Shiro, his hands slowly going up to show they meant no harm.

“I need to talk to you,” Marmora said. Shiro watched him for a moment, looking the tight bodysuit over. It wasn’t likely that Marmora had managed to hide a gun in there somewhere, so Shiro slowly lowered his bat, setting it back next to his front door where it typically lived.

“What do you need to talk to me about?” Shiro took two steps forward and when Marmora didn’t move, he grabbed his coffee mug from earlier that day off the table and took a gulp or two to try and help sober himself up. He really hoped this was not some kind of crazy fever dream.

“Do you promise that you’ll hear me out?” Marmora’s hands were still up, their chest open and their demeanor non-threatening. Shiro wouldn’t have hurt them, well, not on purpose and not excessively. If anything, Shiro would only have done what he needed to do to bring Marmora in and nothing more, which in this situation, might be very little.

“I promise I will listen to you, but I am still a cop.” Shiro watched Marmora, his eyes following the shape of the thief he’d been chasing. He knew everything about Marmora, everything but their identity, and Shiro knew that he had grown a soft spot. He’d always loved Robin Hood stories and now a live one stood in front of him. He wasn’t sure he really would follow up on what he claimed about being a cop, but he knew that he should try.

Marmora took a deep breath, their hand sweeping the hood from their head and his fingers nudging a button on the side of their helmet. The helmet made a soft popping noise, and then a little rush of air came out with it. Shiro’s guess was that it was cooled from the inside. Marmora’s hands touched either side of the helmet, and though they seemed to hesitate for a moment, Marmora slipped their helmet off and Shiro had to contain his gasp.

He kept his face as straight as possible, watching the hair fall softly behind Marmora’s head. Shiro couldn’t help it, he watched as Marmora opened his eyes and looked at Shiro head on and for a moment Shiro might have known what irony was.

“I saw you a few weeks ago, at the rock climbing gym,” Shiro said.

“You did.” Marmora’s voice outside the helmet was silken and husky in a way that made Shiro promptly try to put it out of his mind. “You scared the hell out of me, I thought you’d figured me out somehow. You’d already started to solve the riddles.”

Shiro stared, closing his mouth before he said anything more and took in the attractive features and soft eyes. He wasn’t surprised, he had a feeling that Marmora could be linked to cases where the theft was presumably done by a schmoozing party guest. Everyone wrote it off, Marmora worked with a mask on, they were all convinced. Now Shiro might be able to prove it, the question in the back of his mind was whether he really wanted to prove it.

Showing his face though, that was a lot. Shiro could find Marmora if he wanted to now, so whatever was going on was more important than the odd and sudden feeling that he would have sought Marmora out if he’d met him in a bar. “What did you need to talk to me about?”

* * *

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/160772625@N03/30815097298/in/datetaken/)

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/160772625@N03/42875616090/in/datetaken/)

Art by:[@aph-memepan](http://aph-memepan.tumblr.com/)

* * *

Keith felt like he had bugs crawling up his arms, his helmet in his hand as he looked the detective over in person for the first time. His nerves weren’t going to get the best of him. He held his head up high in front this detective and just prayed that his instincts were right, that this was a good cop in front of him, and that Detective Shirogane could help him.

“I need your help,” Keith said, “And in a way, I’m trying to help you.”

The detective seemed to contemplate that for a moment, “Trying to help me?”

Keith nodded. “I have reason to believe that your Captain is a client of mine. He threatened your life and tried to blackmail me.”

“Blackmail you for what?” The detective narrowed his eyes. “And why would you care if he tried to threaten my life?”

“I’d rather be caught than have blood on my hands.” Keith frowned, his grip on the helmet tightening, “He said if I didn’t work for him, you’d pay the price. You stopped me from getting that wine, he knows we saw each other there.”

“Why should I believe you?” The detective’s eyes caught Keith’s now, fierce and determined as he sized Keith up. Keith didn’t really know what to do with this detective, he somehow matched Keith’s intensity at all times and Keith sort of liked it, but he was a _detective_. Keith couldn’t let his judgement get clouded. Although, Keith would be going to jail after all of this, and Detective Shirogane would be the one putting him there.

Keith produced a small mp3 player from his pocket, headphones wrapped around it with the buds dangling. He held it out to the detective, encouraging him to take it. Keith watched the detective walk around his coffee table so he could carefully take the mp3 player from Keith. The movements all seemed calculated, like he wanted to prepare for a potential attack.

He watched the Detective in the low light of the window slip the headphones into his ears, his face hard and then slowly falling slack as he listened. Keith hoped that it was enough to convince Detective Shirogane that Keith needed his help. When the detective handed the mp3 player and headphones back to Keith, he looked appropriately rattled after hearing someone make a direct threat on his life.

Honestly, Keith had to admit, the hard gray eyes and his jawline caught his attention just as they had before. The detective was more than just attractive, Keith was almost convinced he could be a model. His stomach churned for a moment, his anxiety hitting a peak, he couldn’t let his mind wander down that road, not when it came to the detective. But when the detective set his eyes back on Keith, he couldn’t help the way the knot in his stomach tightened, and he found himself refocused on the gray eyes that seemed to track him like he was ready to corner Keith if he needed to.

“Why did you take that job?” The detective’s eyes hit Keith again, and Keith wanted to shrink, “You don’t normally steal just for the money.”

Keith’s mouth fell open for a second, his eyes sliding off to the side as he tried to form a decent answer. “I,” Keith paused, “There’s an orphanage on the West side of the city, it’s small. They needed a roof, they don’t get much funding.”

The detective frowned, a long sigh coming out of him as he crossed his arms. “We need more evidence than that. Right now, we can’t prove who’s on that recording.”

Keith perked up, his arms finally going down to his sides. “Wait, so you’ll help?”

“I might,” he said, “But I need some kind of confirmation that you won’t just disappear after this.”

“I won’t, I promise. I only have one condition,” Keith said. He knew Pidge could hear them, he knew she’d be mad, but Keith did not want to risk it. The detective made a face though, his arms tightening like he might be preparing for Keith to request immunity or something crazy like that. Then again, Keith had already destroyed all traces of his calling cards at the apartment. Reasonably at this point, they could only connect him to crimes Marmora committed that they could prove Marmora committed. It was still quite a few, but many had passed the statute of limitations, or would be difficult to pinpoint without proof that the calling cards were Keith’s. “I have an accomplice. She’s never done more than do research for me. I don’t want you to take her in with me.”

The detective looked skeptical, “What kind of research?”

“Nothing you couldn’t get from public records.” Keith shrugged. “I don’t want her to get hurt in this.”

“Ah, yeah, I’m so sure.” The detective sighed again and rubbed the back of his neck, “I’ll do what I can, but I’m currently suspended because of whatever Sendak pulled to get Yurak out of the drug charge.”

Keith frowned. “Because you called in for back up on the drugs and somehow they weren’t there when the beat cops got there?”

“How’d you know that?” The detective asked, his brow furrowing. Keith shrugged again.

“You’d be surprised what’s public record when someone is pulling the strings right, Detective Shirogane.” Keith tucked his helmet under one of his arms and slipped his hands into his pockets. “Let me introduce you to my partner. It would be better if the three of us put together a plan as a team.”

The detective seemed to visibly cringe and with another glance around his apartment like he was still trying to think things over, the tension in the detective’s shoulders relaxed just a little. “Please, call me Shiro. Are you planning on leaving in that?”

Keith paused, looking down at his suit. He pressed a button on his suit so that the top part would fall open into what looked like a normal hoodie. Shiro had a clear look of realization on his face as Keith clipped the helmet to his hip, hiding it perfectly under the hoodie.

“That explains so much.” Shiro mumbled, and Keith couldn’t help the chuckle as he started out of Shiro’s front door.

* * *

Shiro couldn’t believe that Keith had only been living a few neighborhoods over. He’d never seen him of course, the city was sweeping and large, but this just felt, odd. Almost fitting, even if Shiro didn’t want to admit it.

He found that the modest building fit everything he’d thought of Marmora up until this point. Marmora, in turn, looked equally modest, his suit sort of looked like running tights and his hoodie made him blend seamlessly into a crowd as Shiro was pretty sure he’d seen on surveillance videos, but he had to follow up on that later.

Following Keith into the building and up six flights of stairs, Shiro found himself in the open apartment facing exactly the kind of person he didn’t want to see. “Katie.” Shiro felt his blood boil for a moment, watching as Katie tried to hold her hands up in defense. “Are you nuts, you’re working with Marmora?”

“Hold on, you promised Keith you wouldn’t take me in.” Katie took three steps back, and there was a couch between the two of them. Keith looked decidedly at a loss of what to do, stuck on what the best course of action in this situation was. Shiro gathered himself with a deep breath, settling down just enough to have a level head about Matt’s younger sister apparently committing numerous felonies alongside one of the most well-known thieves of all time.

“I may have promised Keith I wouldn’t take you in, but I didn’t promise I wouldn’t tell your parents.” Shiro watched the look of panic wash over Katie’s face, her eyes darting to Keith, probably in hopes of getting help.  

“Don’t look at me, how in hell would I have known to make sure he didn’t tell your parents?” Keith asked. Katie shifted on her feet, backing towards one of the bedroom doors and shooting Keith a dirty glare.

“No fair, why are you suddenly on his side?” Katie fumbled to grab the handle of her bedroom door. “Shiro, come on. You knew I worked in cyber security.”

“Yeah, but I thought you were on the side that was trying to keep people _out_.” Shiro bit down on the words, his jaw clenching as he spoke. Katie made a strange, strangled noise and held up her hands again.

“I mean, it was pretty close to what I’ve been doing,” She said.

Shiro took a deep breath. He suddenly felt like he was dealing with a couple of teenagers he’d caught shoplifting from Walmart. “All right,” he said, “We have bigger problems right now. You’re not off the hook though.”

“So how do you two know each other again?” Keith asked. Katie started to drop her guard, walking back towards them.

“I’ve been friends with her brother most of my life,” Shiro said. He rubbed his head, looking around the apartment for a moment. It wasn’t big, but it was open, four rooms going out in different directions, one of which was definitely a bathroom. The kitchen had old cabinets, but someone had clearly painted them fairly recently with a decent amount of care to the process. There were canvases sitting around, big ones, small ones, some half painted and others covered with gesso and waiting, occasionally one was on the wall, but very few of them were actually hung. Most leaned on walls or furniture, shoved into corners or stacked up high enough to be used as a table. “So you do everything out of here?” Keith and Katie exchanged a look, and Shiro frowned. “I can start listing cases I can bring against the two of you and take you both in now and clear this place out.”

Both of their faces washed with anxiety, their skin going pale from forehead rather quickly, and Keith promptly shut the door behind him. Shiro had a feeling it was the door to his bedroom, but he wasn’t going to question that one further for now. Instead, he focused on what skills they both had to help him bring Sendak in. Without the Police behind him, Shiro really wouldn’t have much else to work with and assigning himself an undercover job might not be the best idea. If he wasn’t careful, he could easily land himself in jail right alongside Keith.

“Okay, okay.” Shiro said after a moment or two of uncomfortable silence. “If this is going to work out, we need to trust each other. I promise, I’m not going to be taking either of you in, but I need you to start at the beginning with your buyer, and we need a plan.”

Katie deflated a bit, “You’re right.” They exchanged another look, they’d clearly created some kind of plan that Shiro wasn’t privy to. That or they were really good at improvisation.

“Let’s, start at the beginning,” Keith said, walking into the room directly across from his and coming back with a bottle of wine. “Three weeks ago, Captain Sendak of the Altea hired me to steal this bottle of wine from Yurak’s wine cellar under a false identity.”

Shiro shook slightly, hearing Sendak’s name out loud made him uncomfortable now, but he had recognized his voice on the recording. He had a gut feeling that Keith and Katie’s intel was accurate, especially with the odd way he’d acted towards Shiro both giving him the Marmora case and after dealing with Yurak.

“Is that the bottle?” Shiro took it from Keith when he offered, looking at the bottle felt safer than acknowledging that his Captain might be trying to kill Shiro. Keith shook his head in response to his question though.

“No, that’s the forgery I tried to give him instead,” Keith said. Shiro took a close look at the label, turning it over in his hands.

“Right, from the recording,” Shiro said, “Where’d you get the forgery done?”

Keith sighed, “I did it. I even gave the ink enough time to dry, but because you called it in and said I was there, he knew it wasn’t real already.”

Shiro clicked his teeth, “That’s funny, because I didn’t put in my report that you were there and I didn’t confirm with Sendak that you were either.”

“Wait, if it wasn’t your report, then who did?” Katie walked over the couch, stepping on the seat and then all but hopping over the back like a rabbit. “Or better question, why’d you leave that part out of the report?”

“I, didn’t want him knowing I had gotten that close and missed you,” Shiro said. He kept it at that, there was a certain amount of plausible deniability in pride and trying to uphold it. He’d rather they think he wanted to protect his name than think he might have some sort of soft spot for Marmora. “So, if I didn’t tell him, and the only other people who might have seen you there were Yurak’s cameras, then it’s likely it was Yurak who told Sendak about Marmora showing up.”

“Okay, but why did Sendak contract you to steal from someone who he’s associated with?” Katie tapped her chin and spun on her heels, “If we can get to that root, it might be where we need to start.”

“I still want the rest of the story.” Shiro followed Katie, glancing back at Keith, “I mean, the parts I wasn’t witness to.”

“Well, we spent two weeks putting together that heist and mapping out Yurak’s house from odd sketches the people who put additions on his house had done because it was all we could find,” Keith said, “That place was built like the Winchester Mansion.”

Shiro nodded, “Noted, maybe I can finally bring Yurak on building without a permit.” Keith and Katie both paused to give him an odd look. “It worked on Capone,” Shiro said, “Putting someone dangerous away for something is better than not putting them away at all.”

Katie scoffed, “That sounds like something Matt would say.”

“I’m quoting your brother,” Shiro said. Keith chuckled quietly as Katie groaned and got into her computer chair.

“Wait, how long have you known Pidge again?” Keith had a real devious look on his face, stopping next to an easel near the corner of the room.

“I met Matt when we were ten, so she must have been, what? Six?” Shiro looked at Katie, and she promptly groaned again.

“No more, I can see where this is going,” Katie said, “No more questions, we’re working together for convenience, remember Keith? Shiro’s the police, he’s the enemy!”

“Careful who you’re calling an enemy,” Shiro said, “I might start telling him about the time you cut a triangle in your bangs because you were convinced that your bangs were stopping your unicorn horn from growing.”

“Her what?” Keith looked enormously pleased, and for a moment, Shiro all the thoughts running through his head in that very moment petered out. For just that moment, when Keith looked excited for Shiro to keep talking, it made his head skip words and entire sentences until he couldn’t form a complete thought at all. Lucky for him, Pidge was standing on her chair, and promptly dragged him back to the reality where Keith was a criminal and Shiro was a cop, so he didn’t say or do something stupid.

“Hey Keith, why don’t you show him the piece of art Sendak just asked us to steal?” Pidge yelped and as she pressed her knees into the back of the computer chair, standing on the seat. She looked like she might fall right out as the chair tipped back precariously, but all the wheels stayed on the ground. Either way, it was enough to distract Shiro, he quickly put out his arms to catch her if she fell and drew all his attention away from Keith.

“What about the wine bottle?” Shiro asked, he still had his hands out in case Pidge fell, but she slid back into her chair once she’d gotten them off the subject of her childhood.

“To be delivered with the painting.” Keith waved for Shiro to follow him deeper into the office, which had a big storage closet in the back. One half of the closet was various gear and rigging, things that obviously Keith used on heists regularly just based on the wear and tear. The other half held paintings upon paintings in various sizes, from different periods, styles, various copies of Dutch masters and renaissance pieces that would be priceless if they were real. Shiro could only recognize a handful of them, and even less could he actually name if he tried.

Keith slipped on a pair of gloves and quickly grabbed one off the top of one of the several drying racks, carefully avoiding touching the front of it. He held it up to Shiro, but Shiro really couldn’t place it. He wasn’t really someone that kept up with art, especially not classical artwork. It was well done, though.

“You didn’t already steal this, right?” Shiro asked. Keith laughed and shook his head, taking a pair gloves and having Shiro put them on before offering the painting to him, but in a way so Shiro could also grab the frame without touching the front.

“I painted that two days ago, everything we have here I painted. We wouldn’t be dumb enough to keep stolen property here.” Keith paused and glanced at Shiro, “I mean, property that is suspected of being stolen.”

Shiro narrowed his eyes at Keith. “That doesn’t even make sense,” he said, “This is good though, really good. I certainly wouldn’t know the difference. Of course, that’s if I knew what this painting was in the first place.”

“It’s a lesser known Vermeer. I still need to age it.” Keith had a bit of a bashful look on his face, but he pulled out his phone and showed Shiro an advertisement for a travelling exhibit featuring several Dutch masters. Including a Van Gough, which Shiro was surprised wasn’t Sendak’s target.

“Why this one?” Shiro asked, looking through the list more carefully, “There are more famous ones here. Some that even I know.”

“I get the feeling it’s a test.” Keith carefully edged around Shiro, heading out of the closet and then looking back at him in the doorway, “Bring the painting.”

Shiro blinked for a moment, and without another thought he followed Keith out of storage closet and into the living room. Keith was setting the oven, and he pulled out a cookie sheet, taking the painting from Shiro once he’d gotten to the kitchen. Carefully setting the painting on the cookie sheet, Keith slid it into the oven and cracked the door with a wooden spoon.

“What do you mean that it’s a test?” Shiro asked, watching Keith set an egg timer.

“Well, it’s either a test or a trap,” Keith said, “My guess, he wants me to steal the Vermeer to prove that I haven’t gone to anyone, that I’ll really listen to him.”

“Like he wants to see how much he can manipulate you.” Shiro rubbed his neck and looked back at Keith. “Are you hoping I can get him with stolen property at the drop off?”

“That was the thought. But he always comes with these guards who are armed to the teeth.” Keith folded his arms, leaning on the counter as he watched the oven.

Shiro hummed softly, “How long do you have to give him the painting and the bottle?”

“Two weeks, why?” Keith ran his hand through his hair, still in his Marmora outfit and Shiro had an idea. A bad one, but a really good one. One that might cost him his job if everything went well.

“Well, why don’t you pull the Yurak job this week while I’m suspended. I can go to Yurak’s like I’m investigating before or after,” Shiro said. Now Keith was looking at him like he was crazy. “Hear, me out, you do this now and I make an appearance, Yurak will probably tell Sendak about it since it’s most likely that Sendak is the one protecting him, right?”

Keith seemed to be following. “It would confirm Yurak and Sendak are talking, yes. Won’t you get in trouble for working the case while suspended?”

“Only if Sendak is willing to give away that he and Yurak are close enough that Yurak would tell him.” Shiro walked over to squat next to the oven so he could see the painting. “I think we’re going to need a third painting though.”

“Why would we need a third painting?” Keith crossed his arms, glancing at the oven. Honestly, he didn’t look particularly like he trusted Shiro’s judgement on how to set up a heist. “Also, isn’t this putting you in a situation with a lot of unnecessary risk?”

Shiro shrugged, “Working with you and Pidge is already a lot of unnecessary risk. Also, we need a second fake, so I can provide the Museum with a fake for you to steal. I’ll need your help with the parts where things actually get stolen, I’m not sure how to plan something like this.”

Keith scanned Shiro for a moment, his eyes trailing over his frame. Shiro stood up, his eyes locked on Keith’s and their gaze lingering than either of them should have allowed. They both broke it off though, even if it was longer than appropriate, Shiro could feel that they both knew that they were a bad idea, the two of them. It was a bad idea, but Shiro still wanted to reach out, he wanted to understand why Keith had that look in his eyes, like maybe he wanted Shiro’s attention. He turned back to the oven, focusing on the painting that Keith had made.

“Well,” Keith said, “if we’re making a third painting, I could build a dye pack into the frame. No doubts that Sendak was holding stolen property.”

“That’s a good idea, but how are you going to conceal something like that?” Shiro turned back to Keith, and the sudden look of clarity Keith had on his face nearly had Shiro swooning all over again, even if he didn’t want to admit it. He definitely needed to figure out this looming crush before he locked Keith up. Otherwise, Shiro was going to have a major problem.

“You can just carve out the wood on a wrapped canvas, or even better if you wrap your own, you can carve the wood out before you even build the frame,” Keith walked over to one of the few paintings that was hung on the wall. Taking it off the wall revealed their electrical control panel and then Keith laid it out for Shiro on the counter, face down. His fingers moved rather deftly over piece of wood that the very bottom that the canvas had been stapled into. Knocking on a few parts, he eventually settled on spot that sounded hollow, pulling a knife from his belt and carefully using it to carve out what looked to Shiro like a piece of balsa wood. Once Keith had done that, he slipped out a passport which had been folded in half and slipped inside of it. He set it down on the counter in front of Shiro. “Like that.”

Shiro leaned over to look at the hole more closely, seeing how carefully it had been chiseled out and sanded. “How long would that take?”

Keith picked the painting back up, setting it back on its hook so it covered the electrical control panel. “Not very long, plus, I can always tear the painting off this one and rewrap that frame so I won’t have to carve a new piece.”

Shiro clicked his teeth, biting back the sudden urge to encourage Keith not to potentially ruin the painting because Shiro thought it was rather nice. He hadn’t really expected to discover that Keith had been making all the forgeries himself, and as he sighed and excused himself to change out of the Marmora outfit, Shiro found himself staring at the painting that Keith had just pulled the passport from.

It was mostly green, a mossy forest floor that bled into tall trees and a mountain range beyond it. The grays in the painting made the muted greens really sing, and Shiro had to wonder how Keith wound up being Marmora instead of an artist, or literally anything else considering he seemed to be athletic and smart. Shiro glanced at Keith’s bedroom door and then walked back into the office to talk to Katie about the heists they had to plan still.

* * *

Keith closed the door behind him and took a deep breath. His knees felt sort of weak, and for a moment he thought he might collapse and he hadn’t even done anything too strenuous that day, but the stress that he was in fact going to jail after all of this, and Shiro just being around had started to get to him. Maybe more so than he wanted to admit to. It was a bad idea though, him and Shiro. There was no way the two of them could work, and Keith just had to remember that.

But most of all, Keith couldn’t deal with the way he occasionally caught Shiro looking at him. It wasn’t uncomfortable, it was rather welcomed. Or it would have been if Shiro wasn’t a detective and definitely putting Keith in prison after this. Keith had never really considered himself lucky, having no parents, growing up in an orphanage or in foster care, and making his way in the world as a thief before anything more legitimate seemed pretty damned unlucky. But falling for someone at first sight who was going to be bring the end to Keith’s freedom and potentially land Pidge in jail too if they weren’t careful? That just felt cruel.

Keith started to strip the suit off his body, pulling the bits of body armor off before he peeled away the tight spandex. The suit was tight so he’d never risk his clothes triggering something he was trying to slip past, but it made it hard to get off. He wandered into his bathroom, washing his face and trying to forget that Shiro had complimented the paintings, and that he kept looking at him like he wanted to hear everything Keith had to say. Keith made the water as cold as he could get it and splashed it on his face until he wasn’t thinking about anything other than the cold before he dried himself off and put on some comfortable clothes.

When he walked back out into the apartment, he could hear Shiro and Pidge talking in the office, so he gave himself a bit of a break, walking to the kitchen and carefully taking the painting out of the oven. If he had to make another fake for Shiro’s plan already, he couldn’t risk over aging this one and having to start over. He didn’t have that kind of time. Once the painting was sitting on the counter to cool off, he got a water bottle out of one of the cabinets and filled it with ice, following the ice with water and shaking it so the water would be as cold as he could get it.

He wandered back into the office then, Shiro pointing at Pidge’s monitor which got his hand smacked, but he didn’t really seem to mind. Pidge and Shiro acted a lot like siblings, and Keith really wasn’t surprised considering how long they’d known each other. Keith sort of liked getting to see Shiro focused on something other than Keith, and the way he interacted with Pidge made Keith feel warm. Shiro treated her sweetly, like something important to him, and honestly, once his head had gotten there, Keith started to wonder if that’s what their interactions looked like from the outside.

It felt like a while before Shiro’s eyes caught Keith’s, and then Shiro looked at him again, once he’d realize that Keith had joined them, a smile on his face. Keith wanted to know what things would have been like outside of their current situation. Pidge interrupted, leaning back and blocking Shiro’s face from Keith’s view for a second as she stretched her arms above her head. She smiled at Keith too, and she turned her monitor towards him.

“I’ve got the blueprints for the museum, and it turns out Shiro already knows the curator pretty well, so he should be able to convince them to swap the real painting with your fake.” Pidge dropped her hands into her lap, “And the museum seems like an easy heist, remember that job we did a few weeks ago? The painting you swapped out in the back area?”

“Yeah, the one at the City Center Museum?” Keith wandered over and leaned into the monitor to see what she’d pulled up more clearly. Shiro perked up, looking between Keith and Pidge while they looked over the blueprints together. “They’ve probably upped their security since then.”

“Wait, I was there during that,” Shiro said, “How the hell did you do that?”

Keith looked up at Shiro,“I know you were there, you talked to me.”

For a moment, Shiro seemed genuinely caught off guard, his face scrunched up for a second, and he receded into himself. Keith left him be for now, though Pidge found it hilarious though, probably because she knew exactly what Keith was talking about. It took what felt like a full minute for Shiro to eventually mutter, “The fucking tarp cleaner.”

“Ding ding, ding.” Pidge smiled, leaning back in her chair as she looked up at Shiro, but when Keith looked up, Shiro has his eyes on Keith. They were locked on Keith’s own in a way that made Keith’s stomach do a flip. Shiro looked confused, and heavy, his eyes set and his jaw slack though his mouth was closed. Keith couldn’t keep his eyes on him, looking back at the computer screen so he could try to ignore it. Pidge seemed to notice now, and as she narrowed her eyes briefly at Keith, she turned back up to Shiro, a small, proud look on her face. “Keith made that disguise himself too. The painting he left behind looked almost identical to the original, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Shiro still looked shaken. “The museum curator didn’t notice at first glance either. It was the art appraiser that barely caught it. That and the calling card.”

“I didn’t have enough of the yellow to really sell it to an appraiser.” Keith was actually a little sad about that, he liked that painting a lot. His client was a good person who was so happy to have it back too. “I was hoping it would be passable so that our client could display the original as a copy. He was still happy having it though, even though he couldn’t put it on display.”

Pidge patted Keith on the head, it was a bit of a joke between them that she acted like his mom, but Keith appreciated it when he really needed the support. She then shifted in her seat, sitting up and standing into a long stretch, “We should get some rest, all of us, it’s past one.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” Shiro said and then he paused, “You two will still be here if I come back tomorrow, right?”

“Yep,” Pidge said, “Actually, I think I have a good way for you to help us with Yurak.” Keith and Shiro both looked at her, and she laughed. “Hey, he said he would help, and Yurak’s security is _way_ higher than it was before the last job. A con might be better than another heist.”

“Katie, I’m a cop.” Shiro glanced at Keith, and Keith nodded dumbly in agreement.

“If he’s caught working with us at all, he’ll land himself in jail alongside me and won’t be able to protect you Pidge.” Keith honestly needed her to explain what in hell she was thinking, he usually trusted Pidge, but right now he wasn’t really sure. Maybe she was just trying to keep Shiro close during all of this, but Keith didn’t really understand why. They operated as a two-man team, even when they did do physical cons and Pidge left the safety of their apartment Keith didn’t like putting her at risk. He didn’t like the idea of putting Shiro in that position either.

“Trust me, you’re both forgetting the power of plausible deniability here.” Pidge grinned and turned to Shiro, “Go home, get some sleep. We can talk about it in the morning.”

“Okay.” Shiro didn’t look convinced, but he did say goodbye and let Keith walk him out. Shiro probably wasn’t even halfway down the stairs when Pidge came running out of the office.

“I _knew_ the two of you would be like that. This is why i never introduced the two of you before.” It didn’t sound quite like an accusation, she was smug about it instead. “How bad is the crush? An eight, a nine?”

Keith flared, his face felt hot in a way it hadn’t in a long time. He’d sworn off personal relationships like that when he started being Marmora. He’d seen the movies, he knew how that would end. “I am not, no. There is no crush Pidge.”

“Oh yeah, then what’s with the sappy way you were looking at him everytime he complimented your art?” Pidge followed Keith into the kitchen when he went to check the painting. There wasn’t any cracking so far, which was a good thing. A stray crack could ruin all his hard work.

“It was a compliment, that’s how people react to compliments.” Keith tried to keep his tone level, focusing on the painting for a minute before he went to dig out his old acrylics. He needed to recreate some repairs that had been done on it around 1965 and the only good way to do that was with acrylics from 1965.

“Oh no, swooning is not a normal reaction to a compliment. Swooning is what you do when someone you have a crush on compliments you.” Pidge followed Keith into his bedroom, watching him dig through a box of paints.

“I did not swoon.” Keith glanced at her.

“Then why are you so pouty about it now?” Pidge crossed her arms and sat on Keith’s bed. “Come on Keith, you have to admit you two were looking at each other like that. It wasn’t just you.”

Keith’s face burned hot and he buried himself further into the box of paints, “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Keith.” Pidge actually softened now, “I don’t want you to let your feelings blindsight you. You’re still planning on running, aren’t you?”

“I.” Keith bit his lip hard and stopped what he was doing. “Pidge, if I run, if I’m a real face and the FBI stops thinking I’m some kind of collective network of thieves. I’m not going to be able to run for very long.”

Pidge’s face hardened. “That’s why you made sure Shiro would protect me? You weren’t ever going to run?”

“No.” Keith shook his head, “I was never going to run. I’m lucky, right now, getting to plan for it. I might get this and the Yurak job pinned on me, but not the wealth of other things I’ve done. That we’ve done. I’ll be in jail, yeah, but only for a few years Pidge.”

Her face was already screwed up. Something Keith always liked about Pidge was that they didn’t handle their emotions well in ways he felt were sort of similar. So when she started to cry and instead of talking, ran over to hug him, he knew how to react. He let her cling and hugged her back.

“I’ll miss you.” She mumbled, “if I can, if they’ll let me, I’ll come visit you.”

“I know.” He held onto her tight and then pulled her away from his shoulder. “You are the only family I have ever had. I’m coming back, don’t worry.”

Pidge sniffled and rubbed at her eyes. “Yeah, I know. You better.”

Keith laughed and let her smack his shoulder. “Come on, I need to find the burnt sienna and a cobalt blue.”

“Yeah, okay.” Pidge swallowed audibly and put her glasses on her head to finish rubbing her eyes before she dug into the box of paint with Keith. Luckily, Keith had the boxes in his room organized by date and they found both fairly quickly once Pidge was focused on the blue and Keith was focused on the brown. Then it was business as usual, Pidge digging through blueprints on her laptop and Keith painting as she talked through plans. The two of them could handle this, they wouldn’t make it out of this unscathed, but they’d make it out together.

* * *

Shiro found himself in front of their apartment door at 9:00 a.m. sharp because he’d had trouble sleeping anyway and eventually he just got up and figured he would head over. Katie had told him to after all. He stood there for about a minute after knocking the first time, and then when he didn’t hear anything on the other side of the door, he knocked again, louder this time.

He probably did this four times before Katie flung open the door with the look of a devil on her face. “Who in– oh, Shiro.” She stared at him, looking up with watery eyes that completed her half asleep look. In fact, all she had on was a loose t-shirt and a pair of shorts, her hair wild from her bed. Shiro was realizing the mistake he had made. “Why are you here so early?”

Katie all but groaned, turning around and walking back into the apartment, waving for Shiro to follow. “Sorry,” Shiro said, “I couldn’t sleep and then I sort of forgot that most people don’t wake up as early as I do. Where is Keith?”

“I don’t think I’ve been up before noon in over a month.” She groaned and Shiro instinctively walked to the kitchen and started to make coffee because he felt bad. Plus, everything to do so was out on the counter. “Asleep. He can sleep through anything, I was unfortunately woken up by your knocking.”

“Sorry.” Shiro frowned, but Katie waved him off.

“I told you to come back in the morning, I forgot morning means before eleven for some people.” She rubbed her face as she sat down on one of the stools at the island. Keith’s forgery of the Vermeer was back on the counter, and Shiro found himself sort of falling into it again.

“This looks different,” Shiro said.

Katie nodded, “the original was repaired in the sixties, Keith was recreating the repairs last night.”

“He’s really good at this.” Shiro said it more to himself than Katie, but he caught Katie’s fond, proud smile.

“He is,” Katie said, “When I first met him, he was just swiping paintings, but I knew from the paintings he did casually that he could easily be forging them.”

Shiro chuckled, “I’m sure your parents would love to hear that story, Katie.”

“Call me Pidge, please.” Katie glowered, and Shiro nodded, “Are you really going to tell them?”

Shiro sighed, and stared at the coffee maker hoping that if he pretended she didn’t ask, he wouldn’t have to answer. “No, probably not Pidge.”

“Really?” Pidge’s voice came out quiet.

“I.” Shiro glanced back at Pidge, starting the coffee maker. “I know what the two of you have been doing. I’ve found all of the donations.”

Pidge looked panicked for a second. She clearly had thought she’d hidden those well enough, but Shiro waved her off and kept talking. “The thing is,” Shiro said, “I might have given my word I would protect you, but I’m not even sure I’ll bring Keith in. Something about it feels, lawfully right, but morally wrong.”

“Have you been thinking about this since before you met Keith and found out I was involved?” Pidge furrowed her brow, leaning on the counter. She’d always been good about reading Shiro when they were kids, so wasn’t incredibly surprised she’d picked up on it.

Shiro made a non-committal gesture and then sighed again, “Sort of? Before you had faces, it was more firm that I was going to catch you. My career mattered more than the fact that you were playing Robin Hood. Now that it’s two people my age, people who came to me for help, it’s more complicated.”

Pidge looked worried, and Shiro just tried to laugh it off, she should know how it goes. Her brother always had a problem booking young kids. “You should arrest Keith, Shiro,” Pidge said, “you’re a good detective, and you want to do the right thing. There’s a reason the two of us went to you.”

Shiro watched Pidge’s steadfast expression and he chewed on the inside of his cheek. He didn’t really know what to say to that, and he was trying to figure out if it was a trap. Knowing that Keith wanted to be arrested meant they’d probably done enough to cover their tracks, Keith could plead guilty to the crimes related to Sendak and walk away on all the others. Shiro knew that, but he wasn’t sure if he should let them get away with it, even if they had the moral high ground in a way.

“I’ll do what I think is right,” Shiro said. Pidge shifted anxiously at that and set her hands on the counter.

“Shiro, please listen to me.” She locked eyes with Shiro again and took on a serious look as she gestured for him to come closer. Shiro leaned over the counter towards her, tilting his head because he wanted to know what was up with her. When he was close enough, so close they could bump noses, Pidge whispered, “He wants to be able to come back here. You’re the only one that can make that happen.”

Shiro wanted to respond, but Keith’s bedroom door opened and Pidge leaned back fast, so Shiro turned to start pouring coffee. Keith looked decidedly just as much of a mess as Pidge had when she’d first gotten up to answer the door, but they were both the type of person where it came off endearing. Setting a cup of coffee in front of Pidge, Shiro took advantage of being able to turn back to the coffee maker, averting his eyes from Keith who was running a hand through his messy hair and pouting like they’d woken him up.

“Why are you up so early?” He whined his words, sounding tired and annoyed that he was up early as a result.

“Sorry, my fault, misinterpreted what morning means.” Shiro set a cup of coffee in front of Keith who quickly swept it up.

“I guess a detective would have a different idea of what morning is than a thief and a hacker.” Keith mumbled, still sort of disgruntled, but at least he didn’t seem to blame Pidge or Shiro for the mistake they’d made.  Once he had a cup of coffee in his hands, Keith grew quiet, sitting on the couch and curling up into a ball as he sipped at the mug. “What are we doing today? Are we doing something tonight?”

“I think we’re going to try and steal the bottle of wine again.” Pidge glanced at Shiro for confirmation, and once Shiro nodded, she looked back at Keith. “Yes, stealing the wine.”

Keith groaned, “I don’t want to crawl around in anymore vents.” He shifted and settled his head on the arm of the chair, furrowing his brow as he looked up at Pidge, who had his undivided attention.

“You likely won’t have to this time.” Pidge looked at Shiro now, “Especially not if Shiro is there pestering and investigating them while you’re sneaking into the wine cellar.”

“Wait, what?” Shiro looked back at Pidge and she stiffened, looking back at him. “ _That_ was your plan?”

“What? I suggested you investigate, that’s a thing you can do, right?” She blinked at him, and Keith kept his eyes on Shiro. Shiro knew what she was getting at, plausible deniability was pretty powerful, but he wasn’t sure it was that powerful.

“I can investigate, but having Keith steal something while I’m there is….” Shiro bit his lip and frowned, “maybe not the best idea. Plus, I’m suspended already.” He had been willing to break that for just investigating to see if Yurak told Sendak he’d been there, he wasn’t so sure about much else.

“Yurak doesn’t know that,” Pidge said, “And he doesn’t know that Sendak doesn’t know that Marmora was in his house. He won’t think anything is amiss.”

Shiro frowned. “You’re right, but if Yurak somehow got out of that drug charge. It’s likely he’s working with Sendak since I’m the one who called in the drugs.”

“We need to figure out who Yurak is working with for sure, more than we need the bottle of wine. We need to give Yurak a reason to tell Sendak.” Pidge glanced up at Shiro again, “if Sendak comes after you, all it does is confirm he’s the one with mafia ties.”

“So you think if I show up, spook Yurak, it might point us to where the dirty cops are?” Shiro leaned back on the counter, sipping at his coffee as Keith frowned at Pidge again.

“Yup.” Pidge seemed confident in her plan, but even Keith looked like he didn’t really like the idea.

“So what am I going to do exactly? Are we pulling a con or am I sneaking in during this?” Keith uncurled himself a bit, resting his coffee mug on the arm of the couch as he glowered at Pidge. Pidge though, she looked devilish for a moment, turning herself around completely to face Keith.

“Well the most obvious way for you to sneak in with Shiro, is to go in pretending to be another cop,” Pidge said. Keith’s mouth dropped open and he shook his head quickly.

“Oh no.” Keith waved his hand defensively, shaking his head like he’d decided this was a hill he had to die on, “No way are you getting me to pretend to be a detective.”

Shiro crossed his arms. “Yeah, I don’t know if that’s a good idea either. It might be really obvious that Keith’s not a detective.”

“Hey, I could make a good detective, I just don’t want to be a detective.” Keith huffed and finished his coffee. “Besides, it’s like a three piece disguise. Collared shirt, tie, trench coat, done.”

“And a badge, gun, handcuffs, and actual knowledge of how warrants work considering we’re going to be trying to search a gangster’s house,” Shiro said. Keith still looked a bit indignant. “Aren’t the details important in a disguise?”

Keith frowned and looked back at Pidge, “I’d rather not, but if you think it’s a good idea.”

“Well, let me explain the whole plan,” Pidge said, “I never said Keith should dress like a detective.”

“Wait, I don’t think it’s a good idea.” Shiro glanced between them, but they seemed to be having yet another silent conversation, one that Shiro was not privy to.

“I trust Pidge’s judgement.” Keith said, and he sank back into the couch.

Shiro sighed, “Okay, fine.”

* * *

Keith rolled his head around in a circle and cracked his neck. He started slow, stretching his limbs and moving into a backbend. There wasn’t a lot that stressed him out, but Shiro’s anxiety was starting to get to him. Keith had never worked on a team, not quite like this at least. Normally, when he pulled cons, Pidge stayed behind her computer and stayed rock solid the whole time for him. Shiro on the other hand had the resolve of jello.

“Okay, so we go up there, say we’re investigating, show the forged warrant and then I’ll head into the office while you head downstairs.” Shiro was tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, his worry starting to take up all the air and Keith wasn’t even in the car yet. Keith paused to adjust his disguise, the tie was all the way up, his collared blue collared shirt was accurate because it was an old one of Shiro’s, Keith’s pants weren’t exactly the right color, but arguably faded from washing rather than not being standard issue. He looked like a regular beat cop down to the bulletproof vest and oversized coat which was also Shiro’s. His gun of course was fake.

“Yes, it’s exactly as we said upstairs, calm down.” He slipped into the passenger seat, and Shiro’s eyes followed him. The usual attraction seemed to come back to his face, but only for a moment, then it ebbed right back into the anxiety. “This is going to be a long car ride, isn’t it?”

Shiro glowered at him, just for a moment and Keith felt his stomach turn when he had to stop himself from reaching out to Shiro. Everything Shiro did made Keith sort of want to comfort him, bottling the urge up was getting harder the more time they spent together. “I’m just, not used to this,” Shiro said.

“You’ve never done any undercover work?” Keith shifted as Shiro started the car, and got him talking about some of the work he had done.

“Not all detectives are trained to go undercover.” Shiro’s glower grew tense and he threw his shoulders back briefly, like he was trying to shake everything off. He was a little surprised that Shiro had never done undercover work though, it was something Keith thought all detectives did.

“Well, then maybe I should be the detective and you should be the beat cop.” Keith, letting himself maybe a bit too loose, smirked at Shiro and added, “we can stop and trade clothes somewhere. I hate wearing blue anyway.”

Shiro’s face flushed, but all he did was grumble, “you’re the beat cop because I’m the one who’s actually a detective. Besides, you look kind of nice like that.”

“Right.” Keith bit it out, trying not to sound too startled by the compliment. He hadn’t really expected Shiro to even acknowledge the comment. “Well, then, act like a detective. Just, do what you’d do if you were trying to stall in a crime scene.”

“That’s not a bad idea.” Shiro mumbled, Keith took advantage of the fact that Shiro was looking at the road to glance at him. He looked unaffected by the comment he’d made about Keith, but Keith could still see the faint blush from when he’d smirked at him. It had lingered.

“Have you done it before?” Keith asked. He knew he really shouldn’t be trying to find out more about Shiro as a person, this seemed like a good opportunity though. Plus, if Shiro talked more, he seemed to be less anxious.

“Yeah, sort of,” Shiro said, “I arrested four people in a single investigation basically by stalling the conversation until one of them slipped up. It’s not like this is really the same thing.”

Keith perked up, “this is exactly the same thing. Tell me the rest of the story.” The ride felt shorter once Keith had Shiro talking, and by the time they were there, Shiro seemed to whip himself into some kind of shape. From then it was a simple con, distraction and extraction. Keith just hoped Shiro could keep Yurak’s attention long enough for it to not be an issue.

Entry went fine, Shiro presented the warrant exactly as he would in any real situation. He flashed it quickly, tucked it back into his jacket and he proceeded to do what Keith hoped he’d do, he walked the edge along harassing Yurak and leading an investigation. He was also smart enough not to really offer any explanation for Keith, other then a momentary panic where he must have realized Keith hadn’t given him a fake name to use. Shiro spat out the name Holt like it was nothing though, and Keith just hoped it wouldn’t get Matt in trouble later.

Keith blood’s started to rush as they entered the house. They had a warrant after all, although it was definitely fake. Shiro, in some strange way, found his stride in talking to Yurak about being there the night Shiro had almost caught Marmora, almost caught Keith. It made Keith a bit uneasy, but it kept them out of Keith’s hair while he pulled off the actual theft.

He snuck downstairs while Shiro lead Yurak back into his office saying something about how he wanted to dust for prints on the bookshelf and window. Shiro had called so little attention to Keith at the start that not even Yurak’s guards were keeping a close on him, plus being dressed like a beat cop made him seem like any old escort. Luckily, the wine cellar was easy to slip into from the kitchen, and the main set of stairs into the wine cellar didn’t have any security really, just a lock for when cooks and servants weren’t on duty and didn’t need to access the wine cellar quickly and easily. Since they’d come in the middle of the day, there was no reason for the cellar door to be locked, or at least Pidge had theorized. She was correct about it too. The pressure sensors in the racks were the difficult part to deal with, but Keith had a good idea of how to take them to his advantage.

Backing himself into a corner, he aimed himself towards the rack he needed. He slipped the fake bottle of wine out of his coat and took a deep breath. From there, it was just one solid leap to the right rack, the alarm blaring the moment he hit the ground. He smiled to himself, promptly swapping the bottles and hiding the real one in his coat. He made sure that he faced the security in a camera in a way to hide the quick sleight of hand.

“What the hell are you doing?” Keith was pretty sure that was Yurak, so he just turned around, looking startled as Shiro and Yurak stumbled down into the wine cellar.

“I don’t know what happened, I got over here and suddenly it went off.” Keith forced the most bewildered look ever, his eyes catching Shiro’s briefly as Yurak went to enter the code on the security system.

“What do you mean got over there?” Yurak turned the alarm off and marched up to Keith. Keith played it dumb, looking at the floor.

“I walked through here,” he gestured at the aisle where the pressure sensors definitely started, “and when I got here it went off. This is the rack where Marmora was, right?”

Yurak’s eyes trailed down to the wall to look at the mark Keith’s tight rope gun had left. “It is,” Yurak said, “the sensors should have gone off back there.”

“They didn’t, maybe Marmora disabled them partially?” Keith glanced at the floor, and honestly, for just a second Shiro looked impressed. Keith saw it flash over his face and then disappear when Yurak turned around.

“Well, now that you have set off my alarm, are the two of you done?” Yurak made it sound like a threat, and if they hadn’t been cops in Yurak’s eyes, it probably would have been more direct. Keith wasn’t really fearful though, Shiro was there with him after all, and suddenly he was glad about it. And much Keith’s delight, Shiro only reaffirmed Keith’s feel that he was safe with him when he stared Yurak down, hard faced and calm.

“No, I need to search your air vents,” Shiro said. Yurak looked stunned, and as he glanced at the vents, he shut his mouth.

“I don’t think you’ll fit,” he said.

“I fit just fine before.” Shiro walked over to the vent in the corner, looking it over briefly before he slipped what looked to be a pocket knife from his coat. He made quick work of getting the grate off then, and as Yurak watched, Shiro carefully climbed into the vent and started to look around for fingerprints.

By the time they walked out of the mansion, Yurak just looked baffled with the two of them. The trip to the car felt like a lifetime, the bottle of wine tucked against Keith’s back. When they got into the car, he leaned on it until they were beyond the driveway.

“So, did you get it?” Shiro asked just as Keith started to tug it out of the pocket he’d sewn into Shiro’s uniform coat before they’d left.

Keith held it up, “Easy with you on him the whole time and the alarm to distract him.”

“I have to admit, that was pretty clever.” Shiro smiled, and Keith struggled not to get too excited about the compliment.

“Well, I have been doing this for years, and technically, I’ve never been caught.” Keith smirked, and for a second after he’d said it, he thought Shiro might stop and kick him out of the car. But to Keith’s surprise, he laughed.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s exactly how you get yourself caught,” Shiro said, “You get too cocky and then suddenly a detective can solve your riddles.”

Keith frowned, “Okay yeah, you’ve got me on that one. How did you do that anyway? Five detectives in the last eight years and no one has ever once caught on and you caught it in three months.”

“Trade secret can’t tell ya’,” Shiro said. Keith frowned and crossed his arms.

“Fine,” Keith said, “Then I’m never telling you just how many of my forgeries are out there.”

Shiro’s eyes got big for a second. “It was a spreadsheet, once I’d put only the paintings together I could track the imagery and cadence you used for the different types of item you’d steal. How many forgeries are out there?”

“Fifty-eight,” Keith said, “But I’m never going to tell which are which. I can’t believe you dumped all that information just like that.”

“Fifty-eight on display?” Shiro’s nose scrunched up, “Holy shit, and most of them have probably passed an authenticator. Haven’t they?”

Keith grinned and shrugged, “I don’t honestly know if they did. I haven’t kept tabs on them all.”

“Well they haven’t been caught,” Shiro said, and then in a sheepish way, “We only know of six, three of which were rather publically proved to forgeries.”

“Wait, six?” Keith’s eyes went to Shiro, and Shiro glanced at him briefly before he smiled.

“I found two of your calling cards myself in the last three months. I didn’t go to the press though,” Shiro said, “Didn’t want to spook you.”

“How did you?” Keith said, “which ones?”

“I figured out your system, I solved a few of the riddles that no one never quite figured out. Ones you put out and then we never knew what you’d stolen since you’d replaced it with a fake.” He kept his eyes on the road now, “specifically it was some lesser known renaissance paintings. The matching pair.”

“But they’d be beyond the statute of limitations, why bother?” Keith glanced at the road. Shiro let out a heavy sigh and for a moment, when Keith looked back at him, he looked terribly sad.

“I’ve wanted to be a detective my whole life,” Shiro said, “I was willing to do anything in my means to solve the Marmora case if it meant I could stay a detective.”

Keith felt his throat close up, and he watched Shiro’s expression for a minute. “Well, now you’ll get to stay a detective, right?”

Shiro laughed a bit, it sounded hollow and not quite right. “Yeah,” Shiro said, “Hopefully.”

The rest of the card ride was quiet and when they got back to the apartment, Pidge was gone somewhere. Keith could only imagine where, in the back of his mind though, he hoped she was at her parent’s place.

“No Pidge,” Shiro said.

“You’ve started calling her Pidge too.” Keith set the wine in a wine fridge under their counter.

“Well, she asked me to,” Shiro said, “You should always call people what they want to be called, right?”

Keith smiled just a bit, “Yeah that’s true. Well, even if she’s not here, want to celebrate?”

“Celebrate how?” Shiro leaned over the counter to look at Keith as he held up a bottle of wine. “Keith,” Shiro said, “It’s not even five o’clock.”

“So?” Keith chuckled, “You woke me up before nine, you’re lucky I wasn’t drinking before we left to steal from Yurak.” Shiro gaped like a fish, and Keith almost let him stay like that, but he decided it would be too mean. “I’m kidding,” he added, “I don’t work when I’m drunk.”

Shiro took a moment to come back to reality, “Right. I should have known better, sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Keith tugged the wine bottle open and poured it into a decanter to aerate it, “Seriously though. We did good, and I’m sure we’ve sufficiently spooked Yurak. Especially with that air vents thing you did.”

“I guess.” Shiro took the glass of wine when Keith handed it to him, “I’m just not used to not working. I’d normally still be doing something right now.”

“Think of this as a vacation then,” Keith said, “And when you get back, you’ll probably get a promotion for it. Between the corrupt police captain and the thief that’s eight years at large.”

Shiro sighed, “You know that’s not how those promotions work. I’d have to take a test to become a sergeant. I had to pass a test to become a detective.”

“Really? Then why are beat cops so–” Keith cut himself off and rethought how he was going to say it, “So…, like that.”

“Were you going to say dumb?” Shiro watched Keith walk over to the couch and sit down with a blank look on his face. Keith backpedaled a bit.

“No,” Keith said, “No, I was not going to say dumb.”

Shiro laughed, walking to join Keith on the couch, “You were totally going to say dumb. You know Pidge’s brother is still a uniformed officer.”

“Really? Wasn’t he your partner?” Keith looked at Shiro over his glass, “Why didn’t he become a detective?”

“He likes being a beat cop.” Shiro shrugged, “He knows the neighborhood we used to work in and the people. He’s good at what he does, he can probably do more good there than I’m doing as a detective.”

“You’re doing pretty good if you’re close to breaking a corruption case,” Keith said. Shiro looked at him, and for a moment it made Keith feel like squirming, Shiro was studying his face too closely for his comfort.

“Thanks, probably wouldn’t have caught you if you hadn’t walked up to me though,” Shiro laughed and this time it sounded genuine. “Honestly, I’m surprised this is the path you chose still.”

“Really?” Keith sipped on his wine. He didn’t want to think about this.

“Yeah, if you’d gone higher, you might have been able to get a plea deal,” Shiro said, “I can’t work that kind of thing for you.”

Keith shrugged, “I’ll be fine. When I get out I’ll figure everything out and probably come back to Pidge.”

“Probably?” Shiro quirked a brow at Keith, and it was Keith’s turn to laugh, his smile light.

“Yeah, I’ll be coming back here to her. She’s my best friend,” Keith said.

“That’s good to hear,” Shiro said, and then he added, “it would be nice to have Keith instead of Robin Hood around.”

Keith froze, and then he felt himself chuckle, “Did you just call me Robin Hood?”

“Yeah, seems apt, right?” Shiro turned a smile on Keith that made his heart skip. Drinking with Shiro might not have been the best idea, or it actually was the best idea of his life and he didn’t know it yet. Keith didn’t hold out much for the latter though. “Steal from the rich, give to the poor and all that. It’s what you’ve been doing.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Keith looked down at his wine, and tried to avoid eye contact as much as he could. Shiro seemed unaffected, talking and keeping the conversation going. Keith kept up fine, but he could feel his eyes being drawn to Shiro’s mouth, or the pink in his cheeks from the wine, or the softness in his eyes when he laughed. Keith was trying harder and harder to make Shiro laugh, because it made him feel like all his problems would disappear.

* * *

Shiro was panicked. The wine was smoothing things over, but everytime Keith looked at him he felt like his might stumble over his words or do something stupid, really stupid, like kiss Keith. Kissing Keith was easily the worst thing he could do in that moment, the wine was his downfall on this one, but his brain when he was buzzed made it sound like a rather good idea. But he and Keith were a bad idea, he knew that, somewhat.

He tried to focus on what Keith was saying, his words, the content. His eyes though had other plans and drifted to Keith’s mouth or his hair. Keith’s hair looked soft, a lot of Keith looked soft and welcoming when Shiro’s head was fuzzy from alcohol.

“After circus school though, I didn’t know what to do with myself.” Keith had clearly had just enough wine to make him talkative, and Shiro had found he could listen to Keith talk for the rest of his life once he’d managed to refocus his attention away from his soft hair and eyes so he could really listen. “I got lucky though, found some work, met Pidge not long after that.”

“Wait, when did you start stealing things?” Shiro sipped on his wine, and then in a fit of clarity he set the glass down so he’d slow down. Keith laughed, shaking his head in a way that made his hair move nicely.

“I can’t tell you when or how I started stealing, you’re a cop.” Keith smiled, and his teeth caught Shiro’s eyes again, the way Keith smiled made him woozy, or swoon, maybe that was the word. Shiro shook his head, rolling his eyes as he took another sip of wine.

“I’m not going to arrest you for telling me how you started,” Shiro said, “I’d have no evidence.”

Keith shifted, rolling his shoulders a bit and sighing. He didn’t look entirely comfortable, but he set his wine down and looked Shiro in the eyes. “I’ve never told anyone this, not even Pidge.”

Shiro watched Keith, seeing the seams in the way he moved. His anxiety pooled in his shoulders and travelled down his torso as he shifted his hips to bring his legs up onto the couch. He wrapped an arm around his knees and looked back at Shiro.

“I was raised in an orphanage just outside the city,” Keith said, “They were always good to me, as much as not having parents wasn’t the best thing in the world, the orphanage always felt like a home.”

“I’m glad you had a good childhood. Circumstances aside,” Shiro said. If he was being honest, it was probably what he would have wanted to hear from someone else.

Keith chuckled slightly and he nodded. “Yeah, uh, me too. I guess that’s the best thing to say to that. Uhm, well, the orphanage needed money and I was desperate to try and help. If they didn’t figure it out, everyone there was going to be separated.”

“So you turned to art theft?” Shiro suddenly felt sober, and Keith shook his head.

“No, I, uh, tried to sell some art. Some of mine, but it didn’t sell well.” Keith laughed and shook his head, “And so I started recreating paintings, famous paintings. It was about then that I was approached by someone, looking for a painting of their grandmother that was on display in a museum in town.”

“They wanted you to recreate it?” Shiro asked. Keith nodded, and he shifted in his seat again.

“They did, and I did. Down to the kinds of paint used. I spent days staring at the painting on the wall in the museum.” Keith gestured with his hands to show the size of the painting, a square about the size of a postcard, “It was only this big and the museum wasn’t very crowded.”

Keith glanced at Shiro now, and then he pulled his phone from his pocket. He opened it up and scrolled through his photos until he reached a loan painting, small, in a carved wooden frame, hanging on a museum wall.

“You switched them?” Shiro asked. Keith nodded, looking sheepish. “No one noticed?”

“It didn’t have an alarm.” Keith shrugged, “I just switched them and my client. She didn’t know right away, but she turned it over and it had a note from her grandmother on it. She paid me to never speak of it again and left with a painting that was rightfully hers in the first place. I found out laer the curator had lied when her grandmother tried to lay claim on it, saying that there was no note on the back.”

“You decided to repeat it?” Shiro watched Keith’s face flicker.

“I found out that there was a market for this.” Keith rolled his head to the side, leaning over to pick up his glass of wine, “And taking the paintings was a rush. Then I met Pidge and realized I could make more paintings and swap them, people could have their paintings back.”

Shiro felt like he wanted to be angry, but he couldn’t be. Not as Keith nervously sipped his wine and set it back down. He felt guilty, Shiro could tell just by looking at him. “So whose idea was it to start going big?”

Keith smirked, some of his nerves shaking off as he scooped his glass up and downed the rest of his wine, “It was hers actually.”

“I am not surprised. If I’m being honest,” Shiro said, “She tends to escalate things if she likes an idea. Always has.”

“Yeah,” Keith set his glass down. “She’s good at that, she was the one that encouraged me to get more into doing bigger jobs. She made me the thief I am.”

Shiro sighed, “That’s not really what I want to hear about my surrogate sister, I’ll be honest.”

“Eh, she’ll be fine.” Keith waved it off and leaned himself on the back of the couch, facing Shiro with a soft smile, “But now you know Detective. I hope you don’t use this against me in court.”

Shiro felt his stomach drop and his eyes flicked to the subtle way Keith bit his bottom lip, his head was still full of the fuzz from the alcohol. He didn’t really feel buzzed anymore though, Keith talking about his past was enough to sober him at least a little. Somehow, the idea of kissing Keith still sounded good despite the fact that Shiro should know better, especially now that the wine had worn off a bit. Even worse, something about the fact that Keith still had the beat cop uniform on drew Shiro to him more.

He wasn’t panicked though, his usual layer of anxiety involving Keith seemed unnecessary now that he knew Keith wasn’t messing with him. Shiro had never thought he was lying, but he had to admit that Keith’s life made Shiro question a lot about him. Right now though, a little drunk and horribly genuine with lips purple from the wine, Keith didn’t seem like he was working an angle. He just seemed to be looking at Shiro, and now he seemed to be looking for an answer.

“Now I know.” Shiro finished his glass of wine and set it down on the coffee table, “Can I ask you one more thing?”

“Sure.” Keith didn’t look bothered or nervous.

“Why did you tell me?” Shiro watched Keith’s eyes flick down, briefly, just a bit so that he wasn’t looking at Shiro’s eyes. Instead, if Shiro had to guess, he’d say Keith looked at his lips in that moment.

“I feel like I can trust you.” Keith leaned in, Shiro really couldn’t help noticing and he could hear his heart in his ears. “Something about you. I can’t really explain in. even though I know you’re going to arrest me after this, I trust you.”

Shiro had a lump in his throat, and in the heat of the moment, he leaned forward and tugged Keith into a tight kiss. To his surprise, Keith responded, pressing back and even shuffling himself forward to work himself into Shiro’s space more. It didn’t stop either, Keith’s tongue and mouth tasting like wine as he pressed Shiro into the back of the couch.

Keith crawled into Shiro’s lap, and Shiro didn’t argue. All of his logic was out the window with Keith, and now all he wanted was to have more of him, taste more of him. Shiro ran his fingers through Keith’s soft hair and moaned when Keith rolled their hips together. His tongue eventually moved to Keith’s chin, trailing kisses down his neck as Keith pawed at Shiro’s shirt, trying to get it off.

They only stopped for a moment, long enough for Keith to suggest going to his bed, and for Shiro to unceremoniously carry him to it, pressing him into the sheets. Keith’s nails dug into Shiro’s shoulders, clinging to him at every moment.

* * *

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/160772625@N03/42875617270/in/datetaken/)

Art by:[@bluelaris](http://bluealaris.tumblr.com/)

* * *

Keith woke in the dark with his head on Shiro’s chest. He was only disoriented for a moment, headachey and painfully sober, but calm. There was a safety in his bed when Shiro was in it, the warmth of another body and at that, a body that was Shiro’s.

He didn’t think this was a bad idea anymore. Keith couldn’t even remember what part of sleeping with Shiro he’d thought was a bad idea before. Then again, it could just be that there was no way to undo it now, he’d already done it, and the heavy way Shiro had held onto him and mumbled in his ear the night couldn’t be taken away. Not even if they tried to blame the alcohol, because there was still a quarter of a bottle of wine left.

Keith carefully removed himself from Shiro, doing his best not to disturb him before he stumbled his way into his bathroom, finding some Aspirin and bringing the bottle back with him. He took two pills with a single mouthful of water, and by the time he was wiping his mouth, Shiro had his arm around Keith’s waist.

“Come back to bed.” Shiro’s voice was pouty, the only light shining from a lamp post that stood just outside and below Keith’s window.

“I’m coming,” Keith mumbled, “Does your head hurt?”

“No, stomach does a little.” Shiro pulled Keith closer to him, easily overpowering Keith’s attempt at staying in his spot. He gave in quickly, letting Shiro pull him into a tight hug.

“Pidge is probably going to yell at us when she finds out.” Keith shifted to wrap his arms around Shiro’s neck, running his fingers through Shiro’s short hair and playing with the freshly buzzed fluff in the back.

“Eh, she’ll be fine.” Shiro smiled, his arms snaking around Keith’s middle so he could pull him closer.

Keith chuckled, his lips meeting Shiro’s as he let himself sink into his chest again. They fell back asleep there, their arms curled around each other and their worries behind them for a little while. It wouldn’t last long, Keith knew that, for now though, he would let himself enjoy it.


	3. Chapter 3

Part III

Keith took a deep breath, cracking his neck before he began to stretch his hands and fingers. The museum was easy, drop in from the ceiling, glide down to the painting, take it off the wall and then he could bring it to Sendak, dye pack and all. It felt a little odd to be stealing one of his own forgeries back, but it would keep Shiro out of the accomplice list later on and that was worth it to Keith.

“Remember, fifty-six degrees exactly to miss the blind spot in the sensors.” Pidge’s voice in his ear felt comforting.

“Fifty-six.” Keith repeated, his hands gently touching the stone facade of the museum. It didn’t take a whole lot of time, his hands finding holds and his feet following easily. He occasionally had to put his foot in a hand hold, bending himself into an odd position as he did it, but it worked.

No one noticed either, he was in an alleyway, sure, but it still seemed like a long shot. Until he got high enough up on the museum to see a dumpster conveniently blocking the entirety of the entranceway to the alley. “That your handiwork?” Keith asked.

“Shiro’s actually,” Pidge said, “Thank him when you get in there.”

Keith chuckled, “will do.”

“Find a good way to work it into all the flirting.” Pidge snorted, laughing at her own joke while Keith grumbled. He didn’t respond, they’d been going through a nice phase of Pidge teasing him, and him trying to ignore it. Though, Keith thought she would be more aggressive with the teasing and telling them how stupid they were being. She wasn’t though, she let them be stupid without much comment at all. The occasional tease about them having a crush or flirting too much came and went, but nothing else.

Keith reached the roof in three minutes or so, and from there began finding his way along the roof on his hands and knees until he found the skylight he needed. The fit would be tighter than he thought, he just hoped he’d be able to shimmey through as planned. He took the glass out in under two minutes, a knife and a suction cup usually made the removal go much faster.

Once he’d set that aside, he checked that the opening was wide enough for his shoulders before rigging up his rope and slipping himself into the museum. He lowered slowly, hanging upside down until he was about ten feet below the ceiling. His tether tugged at his belt harder than normal, but he checked it and it seemed fine.

The screen inside his mask had a clock in it, and once Keith pulled the rope gun from its place on his thigh, all he needed to do was line up the shot. He followed the markers Pidge had given him, the painting’s right corner up towards the ceiling, but just before the line where the edge of the next painting’s frame lay on the wall. From where he was, he needed to shoot the rope from his tether line at a fifty-six degree angle to hit his mark.

He took a steady breath and pulled the trigger to release the rope. Keith watched it glide through the air with ease until it hit the wall. He steeled himself, waiting for the sensors to set off the alarm, and when they didn’t start, he celebrated.

Keith added a bit of slack from the tether holding him up and began to slowly pull himself towards the far wall where the painting hung. It took him a few minutes, but he wasn’t keeping track, because now it wasn’t a time game. Slow and steady usually won the race for him. Once he had gotten to the wall, he used the rope he’d shot into the wall to carefully lower himself until he could swing towards his target, a swift motion where he was about to grab the one corner of the frame that wouldn’t set off the alarm so he could carry out the next part of the plan.

Keith started by removing the second forgery he made from the bag on his back. The painting was luckily only about as wide as his shoulders, so he had ample space to store it on his body while he did all of the complicated rope work. Once he had it in his hand, he carefully worked the wire on the back into the hooks holding the forgery with the dye pack on the wall. He could then carefully shimmey the forgery off the wall, leaving his second fake on the wall. This one didn’t have a dye pack in it, they didn’t want to mess with the museum on accident.

He slipped the painting behind his back, strapping it in place and letting go of the frame so he’d swing back to the rope he’d shot into the wall. Keith pulled himself up, climbing up to his original tether and slowly working his way back until he was below the skylight again. His hands shifted, turning to pulling himself up again.

When he got to the skylight, he shimmied himself out and onto the roof. He took a deep breath, setting the glass back as he cleaned up his ropes. Keith crawled his way to the edge again, “on the roof.”

“Good job, bring her home Marmora.” Pidge’s voice was even. She knew very well that a heist was never over until Keith was home safe and as he scaled his way back down the side of the building. Keith hit the ground and flipped a switch on his suit, the hoodie sleeves coming out and his hood coming off his head so he could get his helmet on his belt. When he started to walk, the painting strapped to his back under the hoodie portion of his suit, he slipped his phone from his pocket, smiling at the message from Shiro.

“Shiro is going to meet me at the drop,” Keith said. Pidge laughed and he could hear her shift in her chair.

“Yeah to arrest you,” she said. Keith pouted, keeping his head down as he walked through the streets. He couldn’t hail a cab, so he needed to walk. Luckily, the museum wasn’t very far from the meeting spot Sendak had sent Marmora.

Keith moved quickly. He wanted this to be over, and he wanted Sendak to be behind bars. He took a deep breath as he made his way into another alley, keeping a low profile until he could flip the switch and the hoodie would come back into the suit. His helmet was on next, working his way into the warehouse from a high window after scaling the wall. Keith didn’t want Sendak to surprise him.

Once he could see Sendak, leaning on his car with his arms crossed and two guards on his flank. Keith dropped down in front of them from the ceiling, looking all of them over before he tugged the painting from his back and removed the bottle of wine from his belt.

“Ah, there you are.” Sendak’s mouth curled into a wicked smile, “You’re running late.”

Keith shrugged, “Only stole the painting twenty minutes ago. Had to walk here.”

“Being a little tight there with your timeline, aren’t you?” Sendak laughed, crossing his arms and tilting his head to one side. “Don’t do that on the next job you do for me.”

“Don’t tell me how to do my job.” Keith set the painting on the table Sendak had set up in front of the car. Sendak just laughed, looking over the painting slowly and licking his lips in a way that made Keith cringe. He was lucky he had a mask on.

“Good, good.” Sendak ran his fingers over the frame strangely, and then he snapped his fingers at his guards. “Your next job is the museum of contemporary art.”

“No, it’s not,” Keith said, “I’m not working for you anymore.”

“Make sure to stay low when the Police come in Keith.” Pidge’s voice shook slightly, and Keith kept his eyes hard on Sendak. They stood there in the quiet for a few seconds, Keith stiff and ready for the noise of Shiro coming in. He was supposed to get a team, but nothing happened, just Sendak frowning at Keith.

“Oh, yes you are.” Sendak snapped his fingers agan, and the two guards moved in on the car. Keith took a step back, readying himself to run, but instead they popped the door open, and his worst nightmare was tugged out of the car.

Blindfolded and gagged, Shiro struggled against the guards, tugging at the zip ties on his wrists. Keith swallowed hard, staring at the man he’d fallen in love with as a guard held him up for Keith to see.

“Remember Detective Shirogane?” Sendak laughed and grabbed Shiro’s head to show Keith that they’d put something in his ears, “He has no idea why he’s here, but he won’t be leaving if you don’t agree to take the next job.”

Keith watched Shiro struggle, shaking the hand off his head and yelling into the gag, gnawing on it and trying to break it with his teeth. Sendak clearly didn’t know that Shiro meant anything personal to Keith, but it made Keith’s blood boil. Pidge’s voice was frantic in Keith’s ear, but Keith wasn’t even listening. All he could hear was the way Sendak laughed when Shiro stopped struggling after Sendak slapped him.

“Let me see the painting,” Keith said. Pidge was trying to ask him questions. “There’s a wire on it, if there’s a tracker, you’re going to want it removed.”  
Sendak gave Keith a sharp look, checking out the frame of the painting briefly and then handing it to Keith. Keith, slipping his knife from his belt and finding the hollow spot where he’d hidden the dye pack.

“What are you doing?” It was the last of Pidge’s words that Keith heard before he pressed his knife into the pack, facing it directly at Sendak’s face. The pack exploded with the sound of a loud party popper, Sendak reeling back with a grunt, the dye all over his eyes.

“Oops,” Keith said, slamming the frame of the painting into one of the approaching guards. The other got a wine bottle to the face, luckily Keith moved fast enough that this only happened in a matter of seconds. He was suddenly way more thankful for Shiro’s plan than he had been when Shiro first came up with it.

There were a few exits, all of them too far to deal with Shiro still being tied up, so Keith cut the zip ties with his knife in a swift motion. When he pulled the blindfold off Shiro’s eyes, the moment of recognition made Keith want to cry, but Shiro just seemed to narrow his eyes in on something behind Keith. Keith glanced around just in time to feel the grip of a gun hit the back of his helmet.

He heard Sendak’s guard swear, he must not have realized that Keith was wearing a helmet and hurt himself. Shiro jumped up, Keith didn’t see where he went, but it was away from the guards, so he was fine with that. In the meantime, Keith decked the guard closest to him, and watched him stumble back again as the other moved to come at Keith like a linebacker.

Keith tried to duck out of the way, but the other guard was under him and he tripped. The gunshot felt like a bomb went off in his ears. The sound ringing and screaming ing his ears despite his helmet covering his ears entirely. Disoriented, he felt the guy underneath him shift and Keith shot up like a rocket.

Once he had his head on straight, Keith could only see Shiro’s who was bleeding from his arm and hear Pidge who yelled rapid orders at him. He couldn’t see Sendak anywhere, and he spun around until he determined that Sendak wasn’t waiting nearby to attack them again before Keith turned back to Shiro.

“You’re bleeding.” Keith huffed, Shiro was holding onto his right arm tightly, but he just sort of looked down at it and back at Keith.

“Sendak grazed me.” Shiro was yelling a bit too loud, a gun in his hand, “I got him in the gut though. He can’t be far.”

Keith swallowed, stumbling over to Shiro as he glanced down at the guards. “Zip ties,” Keith said, rerouting himself to the car and popping the trunk with his knife.

“Keith, we don’t have time.” Shiro, frantic and trying to get the stuff out of his ears, started to head towards where Keith guessed Sendak must have run off to.

“Shiro you’re bleeding.” Keith ran after him, the guards no longer on his mind. Instead, he focused in on Shiro, the way his shoulders moved and the red that dripped from his fingers. He had the gun in his left hand, and something about it scared Keith. It reminded him that Shiro was around this regularly.

“You have the right to remain silent, anything you say or do can be used against you in a court of law…” Keith could hear the distant sound of struggling, Sendak on the ground as he rounded the corner, and a cop in a uniform standing over him. Shiro was about half way between Keith and Sendak, stunned and staring. He only really noticed Keith once he’d gotten close.

“Keith,” Shiro looked back at him slowly, “you could run. He hasn’t seen you yet.”

Keith stood perfectly still for a moment, and he looked at the uniformed cop holding Sendak down with his gun raised. “I want to testify against him, for you.”

“Shiro.” The cop holstered his gun as someone ran in behind him, another uniformed officer. Keith could see the cops face more clearly now, and the eyes, the hair, the mouth, Keith knew that it had to be Matt. He’d heard Pidge talk about him time and time again, but Keith never quite realized just how much Pidge and her brother would look alike. “Are you okay?”

Shiro didn’t look at Matt, he turned to Keith and his eyes were full of tears that weren’t falling down his face. “I love you, Keith,” he said quietly, so that no one else would hear and then he looked back at Matt, “I need handcuffs.”

Matt stopped, looked between Shiro and Keith and tossed Shiro a pair of handcuffs before he returned to his partner who was handling Sendak. Shiro carefully pulled Keith’s hands in front of him, giving Keith plenty of room to slip out as he started to read Keith his rights. When he was done, Keith took off his helmet and held back a thick sob.

“I love you too, Shiro.” Keith responded just as quietly as Shiro had said it in the first place. Shiro asked him to take his helmet off, and Keith promptly followed instruction.

Shiro smiled at him, briefly and then walked him towards the two other officers. When they got outside, he heard Matt say his name, not really trying to get his attention. It was more of a moment of recognition as he ran up to help Shiro with Keith.

“Is this Marmora?” Matt’s voice was low and shocked. Shiro just nodded at him gravely, he still looked like he was about to cry, at least to Keith he did. It looked like his expression was made of metal and his eyes looked wet in the light.

“Yes,” Shiro said, “And he saved my life tonight protecting me from the people who kidnapped me.”

Matt nodded, glancing at Keith and the back at Shiro. Keith then got led to a cop car, and as he sat in the back of the car, he was reminded just how small a prison cell was going to be.

* * *

Keith leaned on the wall of the cell, his head on the cold cinder blocks as he stared blankly at his feet. He had only been there two months, but suddenly a five year sentence felt like a lot. It felt even longer when Shiro hadn’t visited him yet, and he didn’t have any commissary money to buy anything, so he had nothing to do besides think.

He’d talked to Shiro on the phone, and Keith really wanted to believe everything before he’d been arrested had been real. Shiro hadn’t really seemed focused on the calls, busy and distracted but he did his best to be there to talk to Keith or listen. Though, that didn’t mean that Keith’s faith might have started to wane a little. Shiro still had the privlege of having a life outside of phone calls and short discussions, he never sounded like he didn’t care about what Keith was going through, but he also never told Keith what had him so distracted.

He wondered about what was happening outside of his jail cell as he stared at the ceiling. There wasn’t much word about Shiro in the news after the trial either, at least not nationally and Keith had been put in a jail for states away from Altea city. He was watching the clock tick, a few months worth of small, even tally marks along the wall next to his bed, he didn’t even notice anyone walking up to his cell until they were close enough to speak to him.

A guard said his name and popped the door open, an off time for Keith to be leaving his cell, but they didn’t tell prisoners much at all. Usually, a guard would show up and take him somewhere and there was just nothing he could do about it. Keith following him quietly. So far the guards hadn’t been rough with him at least, he wasn’t in general population, and the prison he was in was largely reserved for people who committed nonviolent crimes like art forgery. Mostly, Keith felt he got by safely because he kept to himself.

When he was brought to the visiting room, he felt his heart skip a beat. He sat down, looking around briefly and the guard left him there. About five minutes later, a tall man that Keith didn’t recognize followed the guard in, but behind him, Keith could see the flash of silver against Shiro’s dark hair. Both wore well-tailored suits, and if Keith was being honest, Shiro didn’t quite look himself in it.

Shiro didn’t acknowledge him, not right away at least. Instead, the man sat across from Keith, nodding at Keith briefly. His long dark hair had been braided back along his neck and his tie was a nice purple color that reminded Keith of his Marmora suit. He held out a business card to Keith, and for a moment, Keith thought he might be in quite a bit of trouble. Keith had spent a lot of time with Pidge trying to dodge the FBI, having an agent visit him in prison certainly put him on edge.

“Nice to meet you, my name is Kolivan and I’m an FBI special agent with the white collar crimes unit at the Altean City branch.” Kolivan had a hard face, his mouth cemented into a tight line, and his voice sounded smooth and commanding. Keith couldn’t really do anything but stare at him, until he found that Shiro was smiling at him, his eyes bright and his excitement obvious.

Kolivan glanced back at Shiro in that moment too, “This is agent Shirogane. He is my newest agent, a good pick from the Altean Police Department.”

“Yes, he brought me in,” Keith said. Shiro was now trying to steel himself and hide the smile growing on his face.

“I hope you hold no grudge.” Kolivan gestured to Shiro and Shiro promptly responded by handing him a briefcase before he returned to standing at ease near the doorway. It seemed to be his role for now, Keith was confused, but not unhappy. “I need you to look at something for me, and let me know if it’s a fake.”

Keith blinked, and then looked at the briefcase as Kolivan opened it, tugging out a small tool kit before he turned it around. He offered Keith the tools, so Keith swept up the monocular and pulled the briefcase close to him, a small painting sitting in the plush protective lining. He felt as though this might be some sort of test, but the painting depicted a lion staring at the viewer and had a nice signature on it.

“What’s it supposed to be?” Keith asked. Kolivan glanced at Shiro again before he crossed his arms and sighed.

“We think someone is forging Hans Aschenborn paintings,” Kolivan explained. Keith looked up at him and them back down at the painting, he examined it with the monocular and then carefully picked his head up. He set the monocular down on the painting gently, before he met Kolivan’s eyes.

“It’s not real,” Keith said. Kolivan looked him over carefully, and Shiro stared at the painting sitting on the table between the two of them. Keith’s eyes moved back to the painting though.

“How do you know?” Kolivan seemed to believe Keith, he just seemed to want evidence.

“Aschenborn only painted with watercolors. This was done with acrylic thinned out in a way to make it look like watercolor. You can just add water to it to make it work.” Keith turned the painting back around and pointed to the monocular, “Also whoever forged it was dumb enough to sign it. People who make forgeries tend to have egos the size of an elephant. That, or they’re desperate because their own work isn’t selling or being appreciated.”

Shiro’s eyes flicked to Keith, and for a moment they made eye contact, but both of them let it go quickly. Kolivan didn’t seem to notice, leaning in to see the obvious ‘CG’ hidden in the lion’s ear.

“Well,” Kolivan said, “thank you, Mr. Kogane.”

Keith nodded, and then Kolivan did something odd. He told Shiro to leave, giving him the briefcase as he did. Shiro didn’t question it, though his eyes did linger on Keith as he walked out, Keith even caught them briefly through the small window in the door. Once he was gone, Kolivan leaned in toward Keith a bit, his hands folded on the table.

“What’s going on?” Keith looked to the guard just outside the door.

“Mr. Kogane, do you know what a criminal informant is?” Kolivan’s eyes met Keith’s and when Keith just stared back, Kolivan took a deep breath and began to explain. “It’s when the FBI takes on someone who has been convicted of a crime, because we think their knowledge of the criminal mind would be a valuable asset to our team and our cases.”

Keith blinked, “From inside prison?”

Kolivan laughed, and it was hearty and kind. “No, no,” he said, “Criminal informants are given a tracking anklet. It’s sort of like house arrest.”

“So, a different kind of prison?” Keith started to bob his leg nervously. He didn’t particularly know why on opportunity like this would make him nervous. Maybe it was Kolivan’s suit, or the way Shiro had been acting on phone calls.

“You would have a radius, a small stipend to live on. You would be out, and free, and doing something good, catching bad guys like the one you helped Agent Shirogane take down.” Kolivan paused, he unfolded his hands and shrugged slightly, “You could say it’s a chance to spend your sentence mostly free rather than behind bars.”

Keith’s eyes dragged down Kolivan’s front and fell to his hands in front of him. He stayed quiet, his brain starting to process just what he was being told. “I would be in Altea City?”

Kolivan nodded, “Yes with me, and with Agent Shirogane. You’d work in the same office as us and act as a consultant on cases.”

“What would my radius be like?” Keith asked. Kolivan glanced at the door and he smiled a bit.

“I figured we’d give you within two miles of wherever you live. You know, they never did figure out where you’d been located prior.” Kolivan eyed Keith, “Prevented us and the Altean PD from finding out just how many crimes you committed.”

Keith shrugged, “It was a storage unit. I didn’t bring my work home with me.”

Kolivan chuckled, “So then do you plan on returning to where you lived prior?”

“I have to talk to my old roommate.” Keith pretended to be hesitant, “She might not want me.”

“Uh-huh, she was one of the people that wrote you a letter defending your character. Don’t try to hide things, we know too much about you at this point.” Kolivan stood up and headed for the door. “Find a place to live, I’ll be in touch soon.”

“Thank you.” Keith watched Kolivan leave, and through the window, he briefly saw Shiro look at him before he turned to follow Kolivan. Keith had a sudden feeling of fuzz in his stomach, a smile creeping over his face as he was taken by the guards towards his cell. He paused near the phone bank though, looking at the guard. “Am I allowed to make a call?”

“Later,” the guard said. Keith just nodded and followed. He wanted to call Pidge so bad, but he could wait.

The moment he was allowed phone time, he called Pidge just to inquire as to whether or not she had a new roommate yet. Of course she didn’t, Keith sort of left her with all the money he’d squirreled away over the years, she could stay in that place alone for years without working if she wanted. Surprisingly though, she started talking about some actual cyber security work she was doing to keep herself busy, and Keith was happy that she wasn’t continuing to do criminal things.

Once he was off the phone and in bed, he slept much more soundly than he had in weeks. Waking up in prison and having to get dragged down to the mess hall to eat breakfast still felt terrible and demeaning. Nothing would make being in prison any better, at least not in Keith’s mind. Worse, breakfast never tasted remotely good, lunch and dinner could sometimes be all right, but Keith couldn’t stand the rubbery eggs and stale toast.

He shook it off though, he did so for about a week, focusing on the fact that Kolivan would be coming back. Shiro would be back. Something would happen and he wouldn’t be alone in the jail cell anymore. Shiro didn’t come back, this time, Kolivan was alone with papers for Keith to sign.

After that, it was two more weeks of trying to focus on what would come. He woke up on a wednesday morning to the sound of a guard opening the cell door. He shot up, he’d gotten used to the guards showing up at odd hours, and he didn’t particularly like it.

Keith followed them out to a strange room he hadn’t seen before. They tossed clothes at him, some that were definitely his, but not any he remembered wearing when he first got to the prison. The guards pulled him out of the room quickly after they had him change and lead him down a long hallway towards the front of the prison.

They put him in another holding room, and Keith sat there alone for about thirty minutes. He tapped on the table, looking at the mirror the whole time. His hair had gotten long, but he’d kept himself clean shaven and he’d work out when he got bored. The lack of sleep showed in his eyes, but over all he thought he was doing pretty good for having been in jail for three months.

“Mr. Kogane.” Shiro opened the door to the holding room and Keith nearly jumped out of his chair. “Sorry.”

Shiro smiled at him, sweetly, walking to the table where Keith had been told to sit down and he popped the briefcase open. Keith watched his face carefully, and Shiro shared a private look with him as he pulled a black security anklet from the briefcase.

“They sent you to get me?” Keith shifted as Shiro gestured for him to pull up the leg of his pants.

He glanced up at Keith, securing the anklet around Keith’s leg with a good amount of care. It was nice and tight though, unlike the handcuffs the night Shiro had arrested him. “Kolivan’s idea,” Shiro said, “I think he’s hoping that you’ll cooperate better if he shows that he trusts us on our own.”

“How did you get involved with the FBI?” Keith asked. Shiro smirked and shrugged, his demeanor suddenly bashful.

“Well, when you bring in a corrupt Police captain and a famous art thief, you get a lot of attention from agencies that want you to work for them.” Shiro turned on the anklet with a special key and stood up, “Kolivan just happened to win out.”

“And what did he offer you that made him win?” Keith asked. Shiro put the key back into the briefcase and closed it. He had a sly smile on his face.

“He wanted to bring you in as a criminal informant.” Shiro glanced at the mirror, “He wanted you in his office, and he wanted the person who caught you around in case we had to catch you again.”

“You used him?” Keith asked. Shiro shrugged and gestured for Keith to get up and follow him.

“Please come with me.” He said it louder, performative for the guards as Keith got up. “It was a mutually beneficial situation.”

Keith smiled, letting Shiro lead him out of the holding area. Keith had a few more papers to sign to get the clothes he’d worn into the prison back, and then he followed Shiro out the front door of the prison, and down the row of barbed wire fences. He looked around, running a hand through his hair.

Shiro opened the door of a sleek black car for Keith, letting him get in, and in the moment where Shiro’s body was between the prison and Keith, Shiro leaned in to press a kiss on Keith’s lips. It was quick, and then the door was closed, and Keith could smile to himself and sink into the sun-warm leather passenger seat.

“Ready?” Shiro had a grin on his face that made Keith’s heart flutter.

“Yup,” Keith said, “By the way, Pidge has no idea we’re coming. Unless you told her.”

Shiro laughed and started the car, “I haven’t told her anything either. I figured I would let you tell her.”

“It’ll be a nice surprise.” Keith laughed, “She’s going to hit me.”

“Oh definitely,” Shiro laughed and pulled away from the prison. Keith grinned, shifting in his seat to look at Shiro better.

“Thank you for getting me out of prison by the way.” Keith shifted in his seat and leaned into the door of the car. “And you know, saving me.”

Shiro grinned at Keith, confident and quick to take Keith’s hand. “We saved each other.”

Keith snorted, his whole frame shaking as he and Shiro started to laugh with him. “God that was corny as hell Shiro.”

“Sorry,” Shiro sniggered and pulled Keith’s hand to his lips, giving the back of his hand a kiss, “I love you.”

Keith grinned, shifting to lean across the center console to kiss Shiro on the cheek. “I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to @bluealaris (tumblr/twitter) and @aph-memepan (tumblr) for the beautiful artwork they did for my fic! This is the first Big Bang I've ever done, and I'm really glad it was a Voltron Big Bang. I hope you all enjoyed what we created as much as I did. :)


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